Secret Relations
by DuckyDew21
Summary: (Harry Potter x OC love story) Eleanor Merope Riddle. She doesn't know much about her past, except for the fact that, because of her mother, she's famous. Once she starts attending Hogwarts, she begins to learn the truth behind her past, both the good and the bad. Soon, Elle beings to struggle with between staying loyal to friends or her family — and only time will tell who wins.
1. Prologue

**Author's Note: Before we just started, I just wanted to put a disclaimer stating that I do not claim anything in this story — all rights belong the J.K. Rowling, of course. The only exception being Elle, Grace, the Chadwicks, and a few other character I've created and have added to the story.**

* * *

Secret Relations

Prologue

"Give me the child, Grace!" a high-pitched, daunting voice sang.

Grace Riddle, a young witch, ran quickly through the woods, grasping a bundle of blankets tightly in her arms, her wand clenching in her fist. Wrapped in the blankets she carried was a young child — her daughter, Eleanor Riddle.

"Don't worry, Elle," Grace whispered as she ran. "I won't let them get their hands on you."

However, before she could take another step, a stream of black smoke appeared for her, stopping her in her tracks. Grace came to a halt, clutching the child against her body, and holding her wand out in front of her. The smoke dissipated, and standing there was a slender, wild haired woman with a crazed look in her eye.

"Oh, Gracie," the woman hissed. "I've told you — give me the child!"

"Stay back, Bellatrix!" Grace said, panic rising in her voice. "I'm warning you!"

"She's his child — he'll never stop looking for her!" Bellatrix sneered. "Give her to me, and I'll let you escape, completely unharmed."

"No," Grace said, shaking her head fiercely. "No! I won't let you take her! He'll never have her!"

Bellatrix smiled that same, crazed smile. "Goody — I was hoping you'd want to do this the hard way!"

Bellatrix flourished her wand. _"Avada Kedavra!"_

Grace quickly spun and dodge the attack, though narrowly. She quickly turned, taking aim at Bellatrix.

_"Avada Kedavra!"_

Bellatrix cackled as she dodged out of the way of the deadly green flash.

"Oh, the goodie little two shoes used an Unforgivable Curse!" taunted Bellatrix. "How cute! Did you think that you could actually hit me?"

"I _will_ kill you, Bellatrix!" growled Grace. "And I'll hunt You-Know-Who down and kill him myself!"

The smile quickly vanished off Bellatrix's face, and she glared sharply at Grace. "You dare threaten to kill my lord? I don't care if you were the favored follower; I'll have your head! _Avada Keda _—"

_"Stupefy!"_

A strong voice rang out behind the pair, startling both Bellatrix and Grace. Then, to Elena's relief, a run bolt of lightning streaked through the dark woods, striking Bellatrix in the chest and sending her flying backwards into the darkness, momentarily out of sight. Grace turned around to find the source of the spell, and she saw Remus Lupin running towards her, breathing heavily.

"Remus!" Grace breathed, running to him. "What are you doing?"

"I thought you were in danger," Lupin breathed. "Sirius — he's been working for You-Know-Who all along. H-he told Him you were a spy, a-and he told Him where Lily and James were hiding."

"Lily and James?" Grace gasped. "Why are you here then? They need you!"

"Because you needed me," Remus said gently. "And Eleanor. . . . I couldn't leave you two to defend yourselves."

"Remus," Grace said with soft smile. "Thank you. . . . But we should hurry, before the spell wears off."

"Right," Remus said with a nod. "Come on, we'll get somewhere safe and contact Dumbledore."

Grace, feeling much safer with Remus by her side, tucked away her wand and held on to Eleanor with both arms, and Remus walked beside her, wand in one hand, and his other hand placed on Elena's back.

"Where are we going to go?" Grace whispered. "He wants her, Remus — she's His daughter after all."

"I know," whispered Remus. "I know. . . . We can go into hiding, Dumbledore can conceal us."

Grace shook her head and held out her left arm, rolling up her sleeve to reveal a black skull and snake on her inner forearm. "It's no use, Remus. . . . I have the Dark Mark. . . . He gave it to me once I was inducted into his inner circle. He can summon me at any time."

"That's no good," muttered Remus.

"That's not all," whispered Grace. "He. . . . He branded Eleanor as well."

Slowly, Grace pulled back the blankets and showed Remus the same mark on the inner forearm of the child.

"He did this to her?" Remus growled, clenching his fist. "I swear, I'll. . . . I'll kill him."

"It's okay, Remus," Grace whispered. "Perhaps Dumbledore knows a way to remove the Mark. . . . If he can, then we can go away together, start our own family."

Remus smiled softly, and the two stopped walking. He caressed the side of her face gently, gazing into her eyes.

"Grace. . . . I can't tell you how much I want that," he whispered. "I promise, I'll raise Eleanor as if she were my own."

"Remus," Grace said softly. "I. . . . I love you —"

"Oh, isn't this just a _touching moment_?" sneered an unsettlingly familiar voice.

The couple turned and saw Bellatrix standing there, smiling in some manic manner.

"Bellatrix," Grace whispered. "Please — just leave us alone. I'll never show my face again if you just let us escape."

"That's right, _little Gracie_," Bellatrix sneered. "You'll never show your face again, because I'm going to kill you!_ Avada Kedavra_!"

_"Stupefy!"_ Remus yelled, attempting to counter the curse.

However, he wasn't fast enough, and Remus watched as a blinding green light spurted from Bellatrix's wand, directed towards Grace and Eleanor. Grace, trying to protect her daughter, quickly turned her back, shielding Eleanor from the curse. Remus watched in horror as the curse struck Elena's back, and immediately she fell to the ground, unmarked, but unmistakably dead.

"Gra — . . . Gracie," Remus choked out. He turned towards Bellatrix, his eyes blinded by tears and his mind clouded with nothing but revenge. To his surprise though, Bellatrix laid on the ground, left momentarily paralyzed by Remus's _Stupefy_.

_"You," _he growled, clenching his wand in his fist. "I swear, _I'm going to kill you!_" Remus pulled out his wand, pointing it at Bellatrix. He had never used the Killing Curse before, but he knew that the burning rage and unsurmountable hatred he felt inside would be more than enough to supply the power needed to perform the spell.

_"Avada —"_

Suddenly, a loud cry from behind him froze Remus in his tracks. He turned his back on the stunned Bellatrix. The source of the crying was coming from the bundle of blankets, laying beside the now lifeless form of Grace. Remus tucked away his wand and picked up the bundle of blankets, moving them ever so slightly to reveal the crying face of Eleanor.

"Shh. . . . Quiet now. . . . It's alright," Remus whispered. "I've got you. . . . I'll protect you now. . . ."

Eleanor quickly fell silent in his arms, and she gazed up at him with her large, grey eyes. Remus couldn't help but smile, his eyes brimming with tears.

"You. . . . You have your mother's eyes," he whispered. He looked at Elena's lifeless form and he knelt down beside her, brushed her hair out of her face. "Grace. . . . I'm sorry I couldn't protect you. . . . But I'll get Eleanor somewhere safe. He'll never get his hands on her."

"I'm afraid," groaned Bellatrix behind him as she slowly recovered from her paralysis, "that you won't get very far. That child is coming with me."

Bellatrix was still partially paralyzed, and she was only able to lift her head and speak; the rest of her body still wasn't functioning.

Remus clenched his jaw, reaching for his wand — he could kill her and be done with it. But he paused when he heard a small giggle come from the baby in his arms. He looked down at her, his heart swelling as he looked down at her. Then Remus looked back to Bellatrix, who was beginning to get more mobility.

"Count yourself lucky, Bellatrix," Remus muttered. "I'll spare you today."

"Give me the child!" Bellatrix screamed, finally gaining control of her arms once more. She reached for her wand, pointing it towards Remus and Eleanor, but before she could even speak a single word, he Apparated in a thick plume of white smoke, disappearing with Eleanor, leaving Bellatrix there, along with Elena's demised form.

Moments later, Remus found Eleanor and himself in Godric's Hollow, standing before Lily and James Potter's cottage, or at least what was left of it. He saw, standing before the remains of the cottage, was Rubeus Hagrid. The large man was standing beside a very familiar motorbike, and in his arms was a bundle of blankets, very similar to the one in Remus's arms. Hagrid was just beginning to get on the motorbike when Remus called out to him.

"Hagrid!" Remus shouted. "Hagrid!"

Hagrid jumped, turning in Remus's direction, and Remus watched as Hagrid's face shaped into a look of surprise when his eyes fell on Remus.

"Blimey! Remus, what are yeh doin' here?" Hagrid called.

Remus rushed towards him. "I came here to check on Lily, James, and Harry. I thought they might be —"

He paused when he caught glimpse of what was inside the bundle of blankets Hagrid so desperately clung to; inside was Harry Potter, the child of Lily and James Potter, and on his forehead was a bloody cut in the shape of a lightning bolt.

"That's. . . . That's Harry," Remus whispered. He looked up at Hagrid, his eyes wide and brimming with tears. "But, if you have Harry, that means. . . . No!"

Hagrid frowned, nodding solemnly. "I'm afraid so. . . . You-Know-Who was here. Killed Lily an' James. Tried to kill poor Harry here, see that?" He motioned to the cut on the young Harry's face with a single, oversized finger.

Remus stood there, shocked — first Grace, and now Lily and James. . . .

Hagrid watched Remus with a concerned expression, but then noticed the bundle of blankets he was holding in his arms.

"What 'ave you got there?" Hagrid said curiously.

Remus, trying his best to keep his composure, cleared his throat, his voice cracking some. "This. . . . Erm. . . . This is Grace's daughter, Eleanor."

Hagrid's eyes widened. "Gracie's daughter? But why do you 'ave her? Unless. . . ."

Hagrid's sentence trailed and Remus slowly nodded his head, looking down at Eleanor, who stared up at him with her beautiful grey eyes.

"I went to check on them, and I found Gracie and Eleanor being hunted by Bellatrix Lestrange. I tried to protect Grace, but in the end, Bellatrix was too fast for me. . . . She. . . . She killed her, right before my very eyes. . . . She was after Eleanor, so I took her and came to the only place I could think of," Remus said.

"Oh, Remus, I'm. . . . I'm sorry," Hagrid muttered. "I know how much yeh cared for her. . . ."

Remus said nothing, instead just nodding stiffly. He opened his mouth to say something, but paused when he took a good look at the motorbike Hagrid had. Once he actually looked closely at it, he instantly recognized it.

"Is that Sirius's bike?" Remus said through gritted teeth — Sirius was responsible for this. He's the reason Lily and James were dead. He's the reason he lost Gracie.

"Sure is; he left not even two minutes before you showed up," said Hagrid. "Told me I could use his bike to bring Harry and Eleanor to Dumbledore."

"Eleanor?" Remus echoed. "What does Dumbledore want with her?"

"Not sure," said Hagrid. "But it seems as though he knew Harry and Eleanor were in trouble."

Remus held Eleanor close to him. "But I. . . . I want to look after her. She's my goddaughter after all."

Hagrid frowned. "Look, Remus, I know yer hurtin', but Dumbledore wants to see her. Who knows? Maybe he plans on sendin' her to yeh. He knows how much yeh care about Gracie an' Eleanor."

Remus smiled grimly and nodded, but he knew that there was no chance of that happening; how could a werewolf care for a child? And who in their right mind would willing give a child to one? He looked to Hagrid, and then down to Eleanor, who smiled brightly up at her godfather.

"You've got your mother's eyes," he whispered to her.

Eleanor smiled and said, in the softest voice, "Mama?"

Remus bit his lip, trying to hold back the tears as his eyes welled up. However, the tears spilled over, and a few streaked down his face.

"Yes, darling, mama. . . . You've got your mother's eyes," he whispered. He bent his head down and kissed Eleanor's forehead ever so gently. "You're such a special little girl, Eleanor. . . . Such a special little girl. . . . I only wish I could be the one to see you grow up."

Then Remus straightened up and looked to Hagrid, who had just tucked Harry into the side car of the motorbike. He then held out Eleanor to him, and Hagrid gently took her and placed her beside Harry.

"I best get goin', suppose Dumbledore will be waitin' for me," said Hagrid. "Where are you goin'?"

Remus sighed, shaking his head — no doubt Sirius would be long gone. But still. . . .

"I'm going to find Sirius," he muttered to himself before Apparating away, leaving Eleanor and Harry in the care of Hagrid, who, with a great roar from his bike, took off into the air, disappearing into the night sky.

A few hours and one long motorbike ride later, Hagrid came riding into Little Whinging, Surrey. He came to a stop right in front of number four, Privet Drive, where he was met by Professor McGonagall, and none other than Albus Dumbledore himself. Hagrid parked the bike and took the two babies in his vast, muscular arms.

"Hagrid," said Dumbledore, sounding relieved. "At last. And where did you get that motorcycle?"

"Borrowed it, Professor Dumbledore, sir," said the giant, climbing carefully off the motorcycle as he spoke. "Young Sirius Black lent it to me. I've got 'em, sir."

"No problems, were there?"

"No, sir — house was almost destroyed when I went to get Harry, but I got them out all right before the Muggles started swarmin' around."

"And Eleanor?"

"Remus Lupin brought her, actually," said Hagrid. "Poor bloke. . . . Grace was apparently killed by Bellatrix. Remus had been there to protect her, but he said he wasn't a match for her. She killed Gracie and tried to take Eleanor, but Remus took her and Apparated to Godric's Hollow to check on Lily and James, an' that's when we ran into each other."

"Grace too?" said Professor McGonagall. "The poor girl. . . . She was such a great witch. . . . And Eleanor is so young. . . . Weren't she and Harry born on the same day?"

"Yes, yes. . . . They were," Dumbledore muttered.

"Is it true, Albus? What that say about the girl?" McGonagall said, peering at Eleanor. "What they say about her father?"

"I'm afraid so," said Dumbledore.

Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall bent forward over the bundles of blankets. Inside, just visible, they could see both babies, fast asleep. They saw on Harry, under a tuft of jet-black hair over his forehead, a curiously shaped cut, like a bolt of lightning.

"Is that where —?" whispered Professor McGonagall.

"Yes," said Dumbledore. "He'll have that scar forever?"

"Couldn't you do something about it, Dumbledore?"

"Even if I could, I wouldn't. Scars can come in handy. I have one myself above my left knee that is a perfect map of the London Underground."

Then they looked over Eleanor, smiling softly. But almost instantly, Professor McGonagall gasped.

"It can't be," she said incredulously, pointing at her left forearm. "That's the Dark Mark."

Dumbledore frowned. "Yes. . . . I was afraid of that. . . ."

"I thought the other followers lost their marks once he was defeated," McGonagall whispered. "Isn't that what Snape said?"

"Yes," Dumbledore muttered. "But she is connected to Him after all. . . . Perhaps —"

"Don't," McGonagall said quickly. "Please don't say it."

Dumbledore nodded silently, not finishing his thought. "Yes, well. . . ."

He pulled out his wand, pressed the tip of his wand to the skull and muttered a few words. Dumbledore, McGonagall, and Hagrid all watched as the Mark slowly faded, leaving the child's arm barren.

"You'll remove the girl's mark, but leave the boy his scar?" McGonagall questioned.

"Like I said, scars can be useful," said Dumbledore. "But that Mark. . . . Well, the poor girl has gone through enough, and she'll have a hard enough time growing up. . . . The Mark would only make things worse."

Suddenly, much to McGonagall and Hagrid's surprise, the front door of number six, Privet Drive, opened, and a young couple stepped out into their front yard.

"Ah, Henry, Rose, I see you've already arrived," Dumbledore said with a bemused sort of smile. "There were no problems moving in I presume?"

"None at all," said Henry, a young man, no older than twenty-five, with well-kept chestnut brown hair and a beard to match. "Rose used a memory charm, convinced the Muggles living here that they wanted to move to Germany."

Rose, who appeared to be a year or two younger than Henry, smiled softly. "We have a few more adjustments to make, but otherwise, it should be a seamless transition."

"Wonderful," Dumbledore said with a smile.

"Henry and Rose?" McGonagall said, obviously confused — they had both been students of her's a few years prior. "What are you doing here?"

"They're going to be taking care of Eleanor," said Dumbledore. "However, I thought it best that Harry and Eleanor be raised at least knowing each other."

"You really think it wise to have them so close to one another, Dumbledore?" McGonagall said in surprise. "She is His daughter after all."

"I'm very much aware of that, Professor McGonagall," said Dumbledore. "However, these two are going to have a very hard time growing up."

"They'll be famous — the boy's a legend! I wouldn't be surprised if today was know as Harry Potter Day in the future — there will be books written about Harry — every child in our world will know his name! And the girl. . . . Well, everyone is already talking about who her father is. . . ."

"Exactly," said Dumbledore, looking very seriously over the top of his half-moon glasses. "It would be enough to turn any child's head. Famous before they can even walk and talk! Famous for something they won't even remember, or can't even control! Can't you see how much better off they'll be, growing up away from all that until they're ready to take it?"

Professor McGonagall opened her mouth, changed her mind, swallowed, and then nodded.

"If I may," Henry said softly. "Professor McGonagall, Rose and I. . . . We didn't know Grace well, but we will take great care of Eleanor, I promise. A-and this way, we can also help keep an eye on Harry as he grows up."

McGonagall said nothing, and Dumbledore smiled. "I'm sure you will."

Then, he took Eleanor from Hagrid, causing the child to stir some in her sleep. Dumbledore pulled back the blanket some and smiled down at her as she settled once again.

"You're going to have a hard life, Eleanor," the great wizard muttered. "You are connected to the Dark Lord in many ways, and one day, you allegiance will be tested. I just hope you have the power to protect yourself and to stay true to who you are."

And with that, he carefully handed Eleanor over to Rose, who gratefully took the child in her arms. Behind Dumbledore, Hagrid gave a great howl.

"Shhh!" hissed Professor McGonagall, "you'll wake the Muggles!"

"S-s-sorry," sobbed Hagrid, taking out a large, spotted handkerchief and burying his face in it. "But I c-c-can't stand it — Lily an' James dead — an' lil' Gracie too — an' now Harry and Eleanor, without their paren's —"

"Yes, yes, it's all very sad, but get a grip on yourself, Hagrid, or we'll be found," Professor McGonagall whispered, patting Hagrid gingerly on the arm as Dumbledore took Harry from him.

"Henry, Rose, you two best go inside," said Dumbledore. "I'll leave Harry with the Dursleys."

Henry and Rose nodded and began heading inside.

"I'll be in touch," Dumbledore called after them, watching them hurry inside with Eleanor.

"Eleanor. . . . You have no idea the hardships that await you," Dumbledore whispered as the door closed behind them.

"Dumbledore," McGonagall said quietly. "The boy."

"Right," Dumbledore said, nodding his head stiffly. "Before the Muggles all wake up. . . ."

Inside number six Privet Drive, Henry and Rose laid Eleanor down in her crib. Her small hands were balled up, holding on to her blanket tightly, and she slept on, not knowing she was special, not knowing she was famous. She had no idea that at this very moment, people meeting in secret all over the country were whispering to each other in hushed voices about how she was now the only remaining piece of You-Know-Who.


	2. Year One - Chapter One

Secret Relations

Chapter One

Nearly ten years had passed since Henry and Rose Chadwick had taken Eleanor, who now went by Elle, in under their care, but things in the Chadwick household were nearly the same. The sun rose on the same tidy front gardens and lit up the brass number six on the Dursley's front door; the sunlight crept into their living room, which was filled with pictures of Elle and her adopted parents.

"Elle, wake up!" sang Mrs. Chadwick as she knocked on the ten year-old girl's door. "It's time for breakfast!"

"Coming," Elle replied sweetly.

She was already dressed and had just put her long dark hair in a braid, her grey eyes shining brightly. She was looking forward to the day ahead of her — just like any other day, after breakfast with Mr. and Mrs. Chadwick, she would go next door to the Dursley's, where her best friend Harry lived, and the two of them would go to Mrs. Figg's house; Elle wasn't the biggest fan of Mrs. Figg, but Harry was her best friend after all, so he made their time there a bit more enjoyable.

She skipped down the stairs and to the table, where her parents were eating.

"Good morning," smiled Mr. Chadwick, his blonde hair shining in the morning sunlight and green eyes sparkling with happiness.

"Good morning," Elle said, taking her seat at the table.

Her plate and utensils floated over to her and placed themselves in front of her. The refrigerator opened and the milk floated out while a glass removed itself from the cabinet. After pouring the milk into the glass, the milk put itself away and the glass set itself in front of Elle.

"Planning to see Harry today?" asked Mrs. Chadwick as Elle began eating. Mrs. Chadwick was a petit woman with chocolate brown hair that she usually kept piled up in a bun on the top of her head, and she had beautiful honey brown eyes.

"Sure do!"

"Oh, sweetie, I forgot to tell you — Mrs. Figg's broken her leg, so she won't be watching Harry and Elle today," Mr. Chadwick said to his wife.

Elle tried not to look too relieved — Mrs. Figg was a mad old woman who lived two streets away. Elle and Harry hated it there. The whole house smelled of cabbage and Mrs. Figg made her and Harry look at photographs of all the cats she'd ever owned.

Mrs. Chadwick frowned. "Oh, but you and I both have meetings at the Ministry all day. . . ."

"I believe the Dursley's intend on taking Harry with them to the zoo with Dudley and his friend — perhaps we can offer to pay Elle's way, and they'll take her too?" Mr. Chadwick offered.

Mrs. Chadwick nodded thoughtfully. "Yes, yes, that shouldn't be too much of a problem — do you promise to behave yourself?"

Mrs. Chadwick gave Elle an expectant look, and Elle smirked softly. "I promise I won't use any magic."

"Good — they don't know about our magic or yours, and we should keep it that way for the time being," said Mrs. Chadwick. "Harry has it bad enough — if they knew their neighbors were wizards. . . . I can't imagine how their attitudes would change."

"They don't even like Harry. Why does he even have to live with them? Can't he come and live with us? We actually care about him," Elle muttered the last part.

"It's what Dumbledore wanted. He instructed us to take care of you and to raise you so that one day, you can follow your parents' footsteps and go to Hogwarts," explained Mr. Chadwick.

Elle sighed but continued eating — this was a frequent conversation they had, especially lately. Elle knew that their Hogwarts letters would be coming soon, which meant that, sooner or later, Harry was going to find out anyway.

"Why can't I tell him he's a wizard?" she pestered after a few minutes of silence.

"He will find out eventually," assured Mrs. Chadwick.

"Fine," she murmured.

And with that, Elle finished her breakfast in a hurry, ready to see Harry. Mr. Chadwick finished his breakfast and smiled at Elle, who had already put on her shoes and jumper.

"Someone's ready," said Mr. Chadwick.

"Be on your best behavior, dear," Mrs. Chadwick said with a smile.

Elle smiled and nodded, and gave Mrs. Chadwick a hug. Mr. and Mrs. Chadwick gave each other a quick kiss, and Mr. Chadwick walked Elle over to the Dursley's house. He knocked sharply on the door, looking rather dapper in his suit and tie, and when the door opened, it was none other that Mrs. Dursley standing there. She was looking a bit frustrated, but when she laid eyes on Mr. Chadwick, she suddenly smiled, her face flushing some.

"O-oh, Henry, it's so nice to see you," Mrs. Dursley said, straightening out her skirt — Elle noticed how Mrs. Dursley got flustered around Mr. Chadwick.

"Hello, Petunia," Mr. Chadwick said with a smile. He gave Elle a quick side glance, and she forced a small smile.

"Hello, Mrs. Dursley," Elle smiled, trying to seem pleasant.

"Ah, Elle, so nice to see you," Mrs. Dursley said. She looked back to Mr. Chadwick, frowning softly. "I'm afraid Mrs. Figg broke her leg — she can't watch Elle or that _boy_" — she looked disgusted at the thought of Harry, and Elle had no choice but to hold her tongue — "so we have to bring him with us."

"Actually, I heard about Mrs. Figg. You see, Rose and I are both in meetings all day and neither of us can stay home with Elle. We were hoping you and Vernon wouldn't mind taking her with you — we'll give her money so she can pay her own way, of course. You'd be doing us a great favor," Mr. Chadwick said with an ernest smile.

Mrs. Dursley bit her lip, smiling softly – Elle knew that Mr. Chadwick was more than aware of the affect he had on Mrs. Dursley.

"Well, Vernon won't be too happy about it, but. . . . Oh, I just can't say no and have you two worrying about Elle all day. Yes, yes, of course she can come, don't worry about it — we've already have Dudley's friend Piers coming with us, and unfortunately the boy."

"Oh, c'mon, Harry can't be too bad," Mr. Chadwick said earnestly. Mrs. Dursley made a face, and Mr. Chadwick moved on. "Well, regardless, I've best get going — Rose is waiting for me. Tell Vernon I say thanks, we really appreciate it." He turned to Elle, bending down and kissing her head

"I expect you'll be on your best behavior," Mr. Chadwick said with a stern look.

Elle nodded her head somewhat reluctantly. "Yes, yes, I promise."

Mr. Chadwick smiled and kissed the top of her head. "Thank you, dear. I'll see you once we get home. Here's some money — try not to spend it all."

Elle nodded and Mr. Chadwick waved goodbye to her and Mrs. Dursley as he headed back to the house next door, where Mrs. Chadwick was standing by the car, patiently waiting for her husband. Elle waved to her parents and was motioned inside by Mrs. Dursley. She followed her into the kitchen, where Mr. Dursley was sitting at the kitchen table reading the paper, meanwhile Dudley and Piers were playing with the ungodly amount of presents that Dudley had receive for his birthday. Then, standing by the sink doing dishes, was none other than Harry, Elle's very best friend.

Mr. Dursley looked up from the paper, a curious expression on his face.

"Elle?" Mr. Dursley said. "What are you doing here?"

At the mention of her name, Harry looked up from the sink, his face breaking out into a smile when he saw Elle standing there. Elle smiled softly at him before turning back to Mr. Dursley, who was still staring.

"Well, Vernon," Mrs. Dursley said slowly. "Mr. Chadwick asked if we would mind taking Elle along with us to the zoo — he offered to pay her way. . . . Since Mrs. Figg broke her leg, they didn't have anyone to watch her, so I thought since they wouldn't be home —"

Mr. Dursley sighed heavily but nodded. "Yes, well. . . . It'll be a tight fit, but it should be fine. . . . I like those two, the Chadwicks. . . . Dudley, I hope you don't mind."

"Elle's coming with us?" Dudley said, his eyes widening as his face flushed some — Elle frowned. Dudley had always been very fond of her.

"It seems that would be the case," Elle said sheepishly, shooting Harry pitiful look.

Dudley grinned, still blushing, and looked away, whispering something to Piers, who laughed softly. Mrs. Dursley smiled softly, obviously amused — she had always encouraged Dudley's crush on Elle. Of course, Dudley always denied any sort of feelings towards Elle; she was friends with Harry, after . Dursley, however, paid no attention to his son, instead glancing on the watch that was fastened tightly on his wrist, looking as if it would pop off his plump arm any second.

"Well, we'd best get going soon. Are you almost done with the dishes, boy?" he snapped, not even bothering to look at Harry.

Elle frowned and held her tongue, knowing she'd best not say anything to Mr. Dursley.

"Yes, Uncle Vernon," Harry said miserably, cutting off the water and drying the plate in his hand.

"Good, then let's go," Uncle Vernon said, folding the paper and laying it on the table.


	3. Chapter Two

Secret Relations

Chapter Two

Half and hour later, Harry and Elle were sitting in the back of the Dursleys' car with Piers and Dudley, on the way to the zoo. Harry was very excited, and Elle could see him trying his best to contain his excitement.

"It's okay to be excited, Harry," Elle said quietly to her friend.

Harry's smile faltered ever so slightly. "I wouldn't be so sure about that — if Uncle Vernon sees me smiling, he'll think I'm up to something. He's already told me if there's any funny business, I'll be in the cupboard until Christmas."

"There won't be any funny business today," Elle said with a smile, giving Harry's hand a gentle squeeze. "We're going to the zoo — nothing funny about that."

But Elle knew very well that that may not be the case at all. Strange things often happened to Harry and Elle, and while Harry couldn't explain it, Elle knew that it was their magic coming out in uncontrollable spurts.

For instance, once, when being chased by Dudley's gang, Harry and Elle had been running when, as much to their surprise as anyone else's, Harry and Elle were suddenly sitting on the chimney on the roof of the school kitchens. The Dursleys and Chadwicks both received a very angry letter from Harry and Elle's headmistress telling them Harry and Elle had been climbing school buildings. While Harry suffered a terrible scolding from Mr. Dursley, Mr. Chadwick laughed wildly and congratulated Elle on their fast thinking. Mrs. Chadwick wasn't nearly as amused, but she still wasn't angry.

But today, nothing was going to go wrong. Elle and Harry were going to be going to the zoo, even if that meant being with Dudley and Piers all day. But it wasn't school, or Mrs. Figgs' cabbage-smelling living room.

While he drove, Uncle Vernon complained to Aunt Petunia. Harry had always told Elle about how Uncle Vernon liked to complain about things: people at work, Harry, the council, Harry, the bank, and Harry were just a few of his favorite subjects. This morning, it was motorcycles.

". . . roaring along like maniacs, the young hoodlums," he said as a motorcycle overtook them.

"I had a dream about a motorcycle," said Harry, remembering suddenly. "It was flying."

Elle looked at Harry, admittedly a bit surprised — she had had the same dream once. In it was a large giant with wild hair, but he seemed so kind, so gentle. . . . It was a good dream, but it was dream she had only had once.

Uncle Vernon, however, didn't seem to find the dream nearly as interesting as Elle, and he nearly crashed into the car in front. He turned right around in his seat and yelled at Harry, his face like a gigantic beet with a mustache: "MOTORCYCLES DON'T FLY!"

Dudley and Piers sniggered.

"I know they don't," said Harry. "It was only a dream."

Harry fell silent, and Elle watched as he pushed himself as far back in his seat as possible, frowning. Her faced creased with worry, and she reached out and took his hand, giving it a gentle squeeze.

"I had a similar dream once, Harry," Elle said quietly so only Harry could hear her — she was worried Uncle Vernon would have an aneurysm if he heard her encourage him. "There was a giant in my dream."

Harry's eyes widened slightly. "Mine too," he whispered. "Crazy we'd have the same dream, huh?"

Elle nodded, smiling softly, and she watched as a small grin returned to Harry's face.

It was a very sunny Saturday and the zoo was crowded with families. The Dursleys bought Dudley and Piers large chocolate ice creams at the entrance and then got Harry a lemon ice pop. Elle got herself a vanilla ice cream, which she happily shared with Harry as they watched a gorilla scratching its head who looked remarkably like Dudley, except that it wasn't blond.

After lunch they went to the reptile house. It was cool and dark in there, with lit windows all along the walls. Behind the glass, all sorts of lizards and snakes were crawling and slithering over bits of wood and stone. Elle hated every moment of it — her biggest fear in life had always been snakes. There was no reason for it either, she just absolutely hated them. Once when she was a child playing in the Chadwick's backyard, she came across a European viper. Thankfully they're usually very shy and non-aggressive, so while Elle froze in fear and sobbed loudly, the snake slithered off into the thicket of the woods lining the yard.

Dudley and Piers wanted to see huge, poisonous cobras and thick, man-crushing pythons. Dudley quickly found the largest snake in the place. It could have wrapped its body twice around Uncle Vernon's car and crushed it into a trash can — but at the moment it didn't look in the mood. In fact, it was fast asleep.

Dudley stood with his nose pressed against the glass, staring at the glistening brown coils.

"Make it move," he whined at his father. Uncle Vernon tapped the glass, but the snake didn't budge.

"Do it again," Dudley ordered. Uncle Vernon rapped the glass smartly with his knuckles, but the snaked just snoozed on.

"This is boring," Dudley moaned. He shuffled away.

Harry moved in front of the tank, keeping a firm grip on Elle's hand and dragging her with him, and he looked intently at the snake.

"Harry," Elle said nervously, "I really hate snakes, y'know. . . ."

"It's not like it's going anywhere, Elle," Harry said with a small laugh. "You've got nothing to worry about. Besides, I'm here; I'll keep you safe."

Elle smiled softly, feeling a bit comforted by his words. Elle had always been a bit shyer than Harry, so he often was the braver of the two. However, if Dudley and his friends ever gave Harry any trouble, Elle was always quick to stand up for her friend.

Elle and Harry looked on at the snake, and Elle had to admit, she couldn't have been surprised if it had died of boredom itself — no company except stupid people drumming their fingers on the glass trying to disturb it all day long.

"Being stuck in there. . . . It's worse than having a cupboard as a bedroom," Harry said quietly to Elle.

"Yeah, I guess I almost feel a little bad for it," Elle muttered.

Then the snake suddenly opened it beady eyes. Slowly, very slowly, it raised its head until its eyes were on a level with Harry and Elle's.

It winked.

Harry and Elle stared. They looked at one another, and then looked around quickly to see if anyone was watching. They weren't. They looked back a the snake and they both winked, too.

The snake jerked its head toward Uncle Vernon and Dudley, then raised its eyes to the ceiling. It gave Harry and Elle a looked that said quite plainly:

"I get that all the time."

"I know," Harry murmured through the glass, though he wasn't sure the snake could hear him.

"It must be really annoying," added Elle.

The snake nodded vigorously.

"Where do you come from, anyway?" Harry asked.

The snaked jabbed its tail at little sign next to the glass. Harry and Elle peered at it.

Boa Constrictor, Brazil.

"Was it nice there?" said Harry.

The boa constrictor jabbed its tail at the sign again and Elle read on: This specimen was bred in the zoo.

"Oh, I see — so you've never been to Brazil then, have you?" Elle said softly.

As the snake shook its head, a deafening out behind Harry and Elle made the three of them jump. "DUDLEY! MR. DURSLEY! COME AND LOOK AT THIS SNAKE! YOU WON'T BELIEVE WHAT IT'S DOING!"

Dudley came waddling toward them as fast as he could.

"Out of the way, you," he said, punching Harry in the ribs. Caught by surprise, Harry fell hard on the concrete floor. Of course, he still had Elle's hand grasped tightly in his, and he ended up pulling her down on top of him. What came next happened so fast no one saw how it happened — one second, Piers and Dudley were leaning right up close to the glass, and next, they had leapt back with howls of horror.

Harry and Elle sat up and gasped; the glass front of the boa constrictor's tank had vanished. The great snake was uncoiling itself rapidly, slithering out onto the floor. People throughout the reptile house screamed and started running for the its.

As the snake slid swiftly past the two of them, Harry and Elle could have sworn a low, hissing voice said, "Brazil, here I come. . . . Thanksss, amigo."

The keeper of the reptile house was in shock.

"But the glass," he kept saying, "where did the glass go?"

The zoo director himself made Aunt Petunia a cup of strong, sweet tea while he apologized over and over again. Piers and Dudley could only gibber. As far as Harry and Elle had seen, the snake hadn't done anything except playfully snap at their heels as it passed, but by the time they were all back in Uncle Vernon's car, Dudley was telling them how it had nearly bitten off his leg, while Piers was swearing it had tried to squeeze him to death. But worst of all, for Harry and Elle at least, was Piers calming down enough to say, "Harry and Elle were talking to it, weren't you, right?"

Uncle Vernon said nothing about it the entire ride back. Once they arrived back at number four, Privet Drive, Elle and Harry gave a very brief goodbye, and Elle thanked the Dursley's for the day before quickly crossing the yard to the Chadwick's house, where their car sat, parked in the driveway, signifying that they were home.

"I'm home," Elle said loudly as she walked inside.

"We're in the kitchen," called Mrs. Chadwick.

Elle took off her shoes and walked into the kitchen where her adopted parents sat at the kitchen table, both of them with a cup of tea, both looking rather chipper. Elle pulled off her jacket and hung it on the peg on the wall. She settled down into a chair beside Mr. Chadwick, letting out a heavy sigh.

"Uh oh," he muttered, his smile faltering some. "You don't look very happy. Was the zoo not fun?"

"It was for the most part," Elle said. "But things got a bit complicated towards the end. . . ."

She then told the Chadwick's about the boa constrictor, how she and Harry had simply been chatting with it when Dudley suddenly pushed them out of the way. She mentioned the glass disappearing and the snake escaping. As she finished the story, she noticed Mr. and Mrs. Chadwick both looking very troubled.

"You don't have to worry so much," Elle said. "I don't think Harry meant for the glass to disappear — he was just frustrated."

Mrs. Chadwick shook her head. "No, it's just. . . . Did you say you spoke to the snake?"

"Hm? Oh, yeah, we did," Elle said. "I know it's a bit off because I'm so scared of snakes, but Harry was there, so —"

"Talking to snakes," Mrs. Chadwick echoed. She looked to Mr. Chadwick, who forced a smile.

"There's nothing to worry about," Mr. Chadwick said to his wife. Elle looked at him curiously, wanting to question him, but before she could, Mr. Chadwick clapped his hands together, dismissing the conversation.

"Well, who's hungry? I'd love some dinner," he said with a smile.

And just like that, the conversation of the zoo was over, and the three of them enjoyed their dinner. Elle, however, couldn't help but wonder why Mrs. Chadwick would be so concerned about talking to snakes — it must have been a skill many witches and wizards had.


	4. Chapter Three

Secret Relations

Chapter Three

Nearly a month had passed since the incident at the zoo. The escape of the Brazilian boa constrictor earned Harry his longest-ever punishment. By the time he was allowed out of his cupboard again and Elle could see him, the summer holidays had started, and Dudley had already broken his new video camera, crashed his remote control airplane, and, first time out on his racing bike, knocked down old Mrs. Figg as she crossed Privet Drive on her crutches.

Harry and Elle were both glad school was over, but there was no escaping Dudley's gang, who visited the house every single day. Piers, Dennis, Malcolm, and Gordon were all big and stupid, but as Dudley was the biggest and stupidest of the lot, he was the leader. The rest of them were all quite happy to join in Dudley's favorite spot: Harry Hunting. Which, due to Elle's relationship with Harry, meant Harry and Elle Hunting.

This was why Harry and Elle spent as much time as possible out of the Dursley's house, wandering around and thinking about the end of the holidays, or the two of them would sit in the Chadwick's home, watching television and snacking.

"Y'know, I almost can't wait until the end of summer holidays," Harry said one day while the two of them sat at the Chadwick's kitchen table eating a snack Mrs. Chadwick had prepared for them. "Dudley's going to Uncle Vernon's old private school, Smeltings, and I'll be going to Stonewall High — for the first time in my life, I won't be with Dudley."

"Mhmm," Elle hummed with a small smile, biting her tongue — he wouldn't be going to Stonewall High though. He'd be going to Hogwarts, with her.

"Where are you going again for secondary school?" Harry said, sounding a bit hopefully. "Are you going to Stonewall High as well?"

Elle frowned softly and looked at Mrs. Chadwick, who was tidying up the kitchen. Her mother gave her a stern look and shook her head, signaling to Elle that she wasn't allowed to tell Harry.

"Er — no, I don't think so," Elle said slowly. "I-I think mum and dad are sending me so some other private school."

"Oh," Harry said, instantly deflating. "So that means I won't be seeing you much after the holidays then, huh?"

Elle's heart sank some as she looked at the frown on Harry's face — oh, she hated to see him like this. She stole another glance at Mrs. Chadwick, as if to ask for permission to tell Harry the truth. But once the two of them made eye contact with one another, Mrs. Chadwick once again shook her head, and Elle had no choice but to say nothing.

A few days after that conversation with Harry, Elle found herself sitting at the dinner table with her parents. Mr. Chadwick was quiet, but Elle and Mrs. Chadwick were bickering endlessly.

"Why can't I tell him?" Elle bugged once again. "You saw his face when I told him I wasn't going to Stonewall! He hasn't talked to me since then!"

"He'll find out soon enough, Elle," Mrs. Chadwick said, trying to reassure her daughter. "But we have strict orders from Dumbledore — he is not supposed to find out."

"But he's my friend," Elle snapped. "I don't want to wait for the bloody letter any longer — who knows when it'll come!"

As soon as she said that, Elle's parents looked at each other, both of them smiling knowingly. Elle, however, didn't care.

"What are you two smiling about?" Elle grumbled, folding her arms over her chest as she leaned back in her chair.

_"Well,"_ Mrs. Chadwick said slowly.

"We were hoping to save this until after dessert," said Mr. Chadwick as he stood and walked over to the counter, shuffling a few things. He picked something up of the counter and sat back down, holding it in his hand — it was an envelope.

"What's that?" Elle said, slowly straightening up in her seat.

"Nothing really — I just think this will cheer you up a bit," Mr. Chadwick said, casually sliding the envelope across the table to Elle.

She looked at him curiously and then to Mrs. Chadwick and saw they were both grinning knowingly. Elle picked it up and inspected the parcel. The envelope was made of a heavy yellowish parchment with a purple wax seal with a coat of arms: a lion, an eagle, a badger, and a snake all surrounding a large letter H. Written in emerald green ink was her name and it read:

_Miss E. Riddle_

_The Second Room on the Right, Up the Stairs_

_6 Privet Drive_

_Little Whinging_

_Surrey_

Elle's eyes widened some and she looked up at her parents. "Is. . . . Is this it?"

"You'll have to see for yourself," said Mr. Chadwick with a grin.

A wild smile spread across Elle's face and she quickly opened the envelope and pulled out the letter inside. She looked over the letter, which was on the same yellowish parchment as the envelope, and began reading:

_HOGWARTS SCHOOL_

_of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY_

_Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore_

_(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock,_

_Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)_

_Dear Miss Riddle,_

_We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment._

_Term begins on September 1. We await you owl by no later than July 31._

_Yours sincerely,_

_Minerva McGonagall_

_Minerva McGonagall_

_Deputy Headmistress_

"It's my letter!" Elle said excitedly. "I've got my letter!"

"It looks like we've got some shopping to do," said Mrs. Chadwick with a small laugh.

Elle grasped the letter tightly in her hands. She had gotten her letter. She was going to Hogwarts!

"Wait!" Elle said, looking at her parents. "Does that mean Harry's gotten his letter? Does that mean he'll finally know?"

"I'm not so sure about that," Mr. Chadwick said. "You'll have to be patient, Elle."

Elle sighed heavily, sinking in her seat — Elle was many things, but patient wasn't one of them.

* * *

The next few days were very odd — Harry had indeed received his letter, but Elle knew he hadn't actually read it because he hadn't said anything to her. Another vital clue that Harry had yet to read the letter were all the owls that had perched themselves around Number Four Privet Drive. At first, it was just a couple, but as the days went by, more and more owls gathered around the house. Soon enough, more than three dozen owls had made themselves comfortable around the Dursley's home, perching themselves on their car, the top of their house, their mailbox — they flocked the Dursley's home.

Finally, two days before their birthday, Elle had had enough of it all — she wanted to see Harry. He was still refusing to talk to her because he was so upset that they weren't going to the same school, and now, with all the owls, she knew something had to be done, so Elle was taking matters into her own hands.

"Where are you going?" said her mother as she watched Elle put her shoes on — it was Sunday, which was normally the day Elle stayed at home with her parents since they were both off from work.

"I'm going to see Harry," Elle said simply, heading to the front door.

"Harry?" echoed Mrs. Chadwick curiously. "Why are you going to see Harry?"

Elle placed her hand on the doorknob and glanced over she shoulder at her mother. "Someone's got to tell him — if the Dursley's won't let him see what's on those letters, then I'm going to tell him."

Then, before her mother could protest, Elle swung the door open and ran outside, quickly making a run for the Dursley's house.

_"Eleanor Merope Riddle!"_ Mrs. Chadwick called after her daughter, scrambling to her feet to run after her. _"You get back here right now!"_

But Elle wasn't listening. She bolted across the Chadwick's yard, past the driveway, and into the Dursley's yard. She stepped carefully, trying to avoid the owl droppings as she went.

"Elle!" Mrs. Chadwick shouted — she had made her way outside, and she was glaring very sharply at her daughter. "Elle, you better listen to me!"

"I'm tired of waiting for him to know!" shouted Elle over her shoulder as she made it to the steps of Number Four Privet Drive.

"Eleanor, we have strict orders from Dumbledore!" growled Mrs. Chadwick, quickly marching across their yard and into the Dursley's front lawn. "You will not tell him — I forbid it!"

"I don't care!" snapped Elle. She then turned to face the front door, raised her hand to knock, and —

"Out! OUT!"

Uncle Vernon swung the front door of the house open, striking Elle quite hard on the head. Elle stumbled backwards, nearly falling off the steps, but her mother was close behind, and quickly ran forward, catching her daughter.

"Elle!" Mrs. Chadwick exclaimed. "Are you okay?"

"Er — fine," Elle groaned, grasping the side of her head that the door had struck.

"What — Elle? Rose?" Uncle Vernon said, his eyes looking rather crazed.

"S-sorry, Vernon," Rose said. "Elle was just, erm, coming to see Harry."

Uncle Vernon's face was practically purple and half his mustache was missing, as if he had pulled it out. He had a haphazardly packed bag in one fat hand, and in the other, his pudgy fingers were locked around his car keys and coat.

"Sorry, the boy can't see anyone," Uncle Vernon said quickly, pushing past Elle and Mrs. Chadwick without so much as an apology as he headed towards the car. "We're leaving."

"Leaving?" echoed Mrs. Chadwick. "Oh, like a vacation?"

Uncle Vernon paused and turned towards them, forcing a smile, which, in his current purple-faced, half-mustached state, made him look absolutely manic. "Yes, yes, a vacation — somewhere far away, where they can't find us."

_"'They?'"_ Mrs. Chadwick said slowly, raising an eyebrow. "Who is they?"

"The owls," said Uncle Vernon. "The one's with the letters!"

Mrs. Chadwick nodded very slowly, stealing a look towards Elle, who straightened herself up and looked at Uncle Vernon. For the first time in her life, she was actually concerned about him — he really seemed to be off his rocker. Mr. Dursley turned his back towards them and waddled very quickly to his car, putting his suitcase in the trunk and hurrying to get behind the wheel.

Suddenly, Aunt Petunia came hurrying out of the house, suitcase in one hand, and the other hand pulling Dudley along behind her.

"Ah, Rose, Elle," Mrs. Dursley said, her eyes widening when she saw them. "So nice to see you!"

"Vernon says you're going on a vacation," said Mrs. Chadwick with a rather concerned smile.

"Ah, yes, yes, a vacation," said Mrs. Dursley. "And we haven't a second to spare — c'mon, Dudley."

Mrs. Dursley ushered her son off to the car, and just then, Harry came out of the house at last, closing the door behind him. When he turned and saw Elle and Mrs. Chadwick, his eyes widened some.

"Elle?" Harry said softly. "What are you doing here?"

"I wanted to see you," said Elle. "I. . . . I wanted to tell you something."

Mrs. Chadwick glared at Elle, but she ignored it. Harry, however, frowned softly.

"Well, as you can see, now really isn't the best time," said Harry. "Uncle Vernon, he. . . . Well, he's gone a bit mad."

"I know, but it's important," Elle said quickly.

Uncle Vernon suddenly laid on the horn, poking his purple-faced head out of the window.

_"HURRY UP, BOY!"_ he roared over the horn.

Harry looked at Uncle Vernon and nodded, glancing back at Elle.

"Can you be quick then?" said Harry — Elle knew how much he didn't want to upset Uncle Vernon.

Elle looked between Harry and Mrs. Chadwick — maybe her mother was right. Perhaps it wasn't the best time to tell Harry this life changing news. So, instead, Elle smiled very softly and looked towards her friend.

"I, uh, I just wanted to tell you, my parents. . . . They told me we'd be going to the same school," said Elle.

Harry's eyes widened slightly. "Really?"

Elle smiled and nodded. "Mhmm — they just told me this morning, and I couldn't wait to tell you, so I wanted to come tell you right away."

Harry's face broke into a large smile and he suddenly threw his arms around Elle.

"Oh, that's great!" Harry said. "I was so upset when I thought we weren't going to be in secondary school together —"

_"HARRY POTTER!" _shouted Uncle Vernon from the car. _"I SWEAR, IF YOU DON'T GET IN THIS CAR —"_

"I'm coming, Uncle Vernon!" Harry called, letting go of Elle. He straightened up and looked at Elle, smiling brightly.

"Well, I guess I'll see you once Uncle Vernon's mental break down is over," said Harry.

Elle nodded and Harry hurried off to the car, quickly getting in. She and Mrs. Chadwick could hear Uncle Vernon yelling at Harry for holding them up, but they didn't hear much because the second Harry closed the door, Uncle Vernon sped out of the driveway, down the street, and disappeared around the corner.

"You didn't tell him," mused Mrs. Chadwick.

"I know," Elle said, looking at her mother. It was obvious Elle was disappointed — she'd been longing to tell Harry for years now, to be able to share the excitement of the wizarding world with her friend. "It seemed like there was too much going on — I don't think he would have believed me anyway."

Mrs. Chadwick placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. "I promise, Elle, he'll find out soon enough."

Elle nodded and Mrs. Chadwick smiled lightly. "Come on — how about some tea and a movie?"


	5. Chapter Four

Secret Relations

Chapter Four

The next night Elle was sitting on the couch with her parents. The three of them were watching a movie after a fantastic dinner in preparation for tomorrow — Elle's birthday. It was also Harry's birthday, and usually Harry and Elle celebrated together at the Chadwick's house, but seeing as he was still gone with his aunt and uncle and Dudley, it looked like, for the first time in her life, the two of them wouldn't be celebrating together.

It was storming outside, and thunder roared dully throughout the house, lighting striking every once in a while, which Elle observed through the window. It was getting late, around ten o'clock, which meant she would probably be heading to bed soon. However, before either of her parents could suggest that she start heading to bed, there was a knock on the door.

"I'll get it," said Elle, getting up and walking to the door.

She opened the front door and gasped. Standing in the doorway was a huge man. He had a long, shaggy mane of hair and a tangled beard, which covered most of his face. He had black eyes that seemed kind and gentle. The man was twice as wide as Mr. Chadwick, and he was several feet taller.

"Hello!" the man said cheerfully.

"Mummy! Daddy!" Elle squeaked in fear, turning her back to the man and running back towards the living room.

"Elle?" said Mr. Chadwick, very concerned. "Who is it?"

Both of her parents jumped to their feet in an instant, drawing their wands from seemingly thin air. Elle threw her arms around her father for protection, and Mr. Chadwick placed one arm around her, holding his wand out in front of him with the other hand. He took a few steps forward, looking down the hallway to the front door, and Elle felt him relax the second he laid eyes on the giant standing in the doorway.

"Hagrid?" Mr. Chadwick said incredulously. He let go of Elle and lowered his wand, a large smile speaking across his face. "Is that really you?"

"What other half-giants do yeh know of, Henry?" laughed the giant.

Elle realized that her father and the giant — Hagrid — apparently knew each other, and she let go of her father, staring at him curiously. Mr. Chadwick tucked his wand away and stepped forward, embracing the man. Mrs. Chadwick's face brightened at the name 'Hagrid', and she also put away her wand, coming into the hallway.

"Hagrid!" she exclaimed once she saw the man. "It's so good to see you!"

"Blimey, Rose! Yeh've changed!" grinned the huge man, letting go of Mr. Chadwick and giving Elle's mother a hug. "I haven't seen you two in ages!"

Mr. and Mrs. Chadwick ushered Hagrid inside and shut the door, and soon, the four of them were all sitting in the living room. Hagrid sat in the love seat in the living room, though he was so large that he took up the entire thing, and somehow still looked too big for the furniture. Elle sat with her parents on the couch, sitting very close to her father – they may have known the man, but Elle still had no idea who he was.

Hagrid made himself comfortable, and he then looked at Elle, speaking to her. "So, you must be lil' miss Eleanor Riddle, is that right?"

"Y-yes, sir," replied Elle timidly. "But I go by Elle now."

"Ah, Elle — o' course. Yeh've grown so much! It's hard to believe that almost ten years ago I was flyin' over here from Godric's Hollow with you an' Harry in tow! Yeh've grown up so much!"

Suddenly, Elle's eyes widened — of course! This was the man that her parents had told her about. They had told Elle the story of how they were given the responsibility to raise her several times, though whenever they spoke of the man who brought her to Privet Drive, they had never mentioned Hagrid by name. As she looked at Hagrid, she thought back to the dream she and Harry both shared — the one of a wild maned man on a flying motorcycle — and she realized that it wasn't a dream at all. Hagrid was the wild maned man.

"You brought me from Godric's Hollow?" said Elle with wide eyes. Hagrid nodded and she smiled softly, feeling a bit more comfortable with the giant.

Hagrid nodded, looking very prideful. "Yup, that was me alright! Brought ya' here meself, safe an' sound!"

For the next hour or so, the four of them sat in the living room, telling stories and catching up with one another — apparently, Elle's parents hadn't seen Hagrid since the day he had brought her and Harry to Privet Drive. Mrs. Chadwick fixed everyone some tea and biscuits, and finally, long after they had finished their tea, Mr. Chadwick inquired about the reason behind Hagrid's surprise visit.

"So, what brings you here, Hagrid?" asked Mr. Chadwick, placing his empty tea cup on the table. "It's not everyday we have an old friend stop by unannounced."

"Official Hogwarts business," Hagrid said, sounding proud.

"Hogwarts business?" said Mrs. Chadwick. "So, then why are you here?"

"Dumbledore wants me ter take Elle an' Harry shoppin' in Diagon Alley!" said Hagrid brightly.

Mrs. Chadwick frowned some. "I see. . . . But, Hagrid, you should know, Harry and the Dursleys are gone," she said. "They left yesterday, and in quite a hurry."

"Oh, I know, I know — nothing happens without Dumbledore knowin'," Hagrid said with a laugh. "Yup, I was just goin' ter get Elle first — I figured she'd want ter come with me ter get Harry."

"Oh! Well, if that's the case, I'm sure Elle would be glad to go! Right, Elle?" asked Mr. Chadwick. Elle nodded and Hagrid grinned.

"Splendid! But I would go grab a change o' clothes. We probably won't go ter Diagon Alley 'til tomorrow," he told her. "Grab a coat while yeh're at it! That storm is really something else."

Elle nodded and stood, heading for the stairs. However, before she went up the stairs, she paused and looked towards Hagrid, frowning some.

"Mr. Hagrid," Elle said. Hagrid looked a bit surprised — he wasn't used to being addressed so formally. "Harry. . . . He doesn't know he's a wizard — the Dursley's haven't let him read the letters."

Hagrid smiled softly and nodded. "Yes, I know 'bout that," he said. "I've got a letter for Harry in here somewhere — now, you go get ready. We've got a long journey ahead of us."

With that, Elle headed to her room and grabbed a small bag with some clothes in it and a coat — then she and Hagrid were off. Her parents followed the two of them outside, where Elle found a motorcycle sitting in the street in front of their house. It looked to be in impeccable condition, and the sidecar attached to it looked just as fantastic.

"A motorcycle?" Elle echoed. "Is this. . . . Is this the motorcycle you used to bring Harry and I here by chance?"

Hagrid smiled and nodded. "That's right! Still runs just as well as it did back then!"

Elle nodded and claimed into the sidecar, holding her coat tightly around her — the rain and wind was going to make this ride a rather unenjoyable one. However, as Hagrid mounted his bike, Mrs. Chadwick glanced around and pulled out her wand.

"I don't want either of you to catch a cold," she muttered after making sure the coast was clear. Then, she looked at Hagrid and Elle, waved her wand and muttered something very quiet — Elle couldn't pick out what she said. However, Elle no longer felt the rain falling on her, and the wind wasn't blowing viciously against them.

Her eyes widened as she looked to her mother, who smiled at her daughter's amazement.

"You'll learn how to do it one day," said Mrs. Chadwick with a soft smile. "Just a simple charm to repel water and block the wind."

"Just as clever as always, Rose," Hagrid said with a chuckle.

He then kicked his bike to life, and it gave a great roar. He looked over at Elle's parents, who stood in their yard, smiling softly.

"I'll be returning her tomorrow night," said Hagrid with a smile.

"Be safe, you two!" called Mrs. Chadwick over the sound of the bike.

"I can't wait to see what wand you come home with," said Mr. Chadwick with a smile.

With final goodbyes, Hagrid kicked off the ground, and the bike took off into the air. Elle's stomach lurched slightly, her heart racing some — she was flying. She was in a flying motorcycle. However, much to Elle's surprise, she realized she was enjoying it more than she was scared — this was actually fun for her. Soon enough, the two of them reached the cottage the Dursleys were staying there, and she was glad she brought a coat, because the moment Elle and Hagrid stepped off of the bike, Mrs. Chadwick's charm vanished, and immediately the two began to get soaked by the rain, the wind blowing viciously, chilling Elle to the bone. As she stood there, shivering violently, Elle stole a glance at the digital watch on her wrist and saw it was midnight, which meant it was July 31st — her and Harry's birthday.

When they reached the old crooked looking cottage, Hagrid began knocking, the fragile wooden door shaking violently under his hand. No one answered, so he knocked again, the door shaking even more. From inside, a timid call rang from Mr. Dursley.

"Who's there?" he shouted. "I warn you — I'm armed!"

Hagrid hit the door again and accidentally knocked it off its hinges. He looked at Elle and simply shrugged before he motioned her into the cottage. Hagrid followed behind her, stepping inside, and he paused to put the door back on the hinges. Harry, who looked absolutely terrified, laid eyes on Elle, and instantly, he brightened up.

"Elle?" he exclaimed, both relieved to see her, and confused. However, his eyes wandered back to the imposing giant and fell silent again.

Hagrid turned and looked at all of them. "Couldn't make us a cup o' tea, could yeh? It's not been an easy journey . . ."

He strolled over to the sofa where Dudley sat frozen in fear.

"Budge up, yeh great lump," said Hagrid, which caused Dudley and squeak and take cover behind his parents.

"An' here's Harry!" he grinned.

Harry looked at Elle and then to the giant and was quite confused.

"Las' time I saw you, you was only a baby," said the giant. "Yeh look a lot like yer dad, but yeh've got yer mum's eyes."

Mr. Dursley made a funny noise.

"I demand that you leave at once, sir!" he said, and Elle noticed the gun in his hand. "You are breaking and entering!"

"Ah, shut up, Dursley, yeh great prune," growled Hagrid. He reached over, snapped the gun out of Mr. Dursley's hands, tied it into a knot, and threw it into the corner of the room.

"Anyway — Harry," started Hagrid, turning his back to the Dursleys, "a very happy birthday to both o' yeh," he said, smiling at him and Elle. "Got summat fer yeh here — I mighta sat on it at some point, but it'll taste all right.

He reached into a pocket of her black overcoat and pulled out a slightly squashed box. Harry took it and opened it. Inside was a large, sticky chocolate cake with _Happy Birthday Harry and Elle _written on it in green icing.

Harry looked up at Hagrid. "Who are you?"

Hagrid just laughed.

"True, I haven't introduced meself. Rubeus Hagrid, Keeper of Keys and Grounds at Hogwarts."

He took Harry's hand in his own enormous one and shook it, but ended up shaking his entire arm.

"What about that tea then, eh?' he asked, rubbing his hands together, which were probably cold from the traveling. Elle rubbed her hands together slightly and she realized they were also very cold. "I'd not say no ter summat strong if yeh've got it, mind."

He looked at the fire place, stood up, and used his umbrella to start a fire, which quickly warmed the whole room.

Hagrid sat back down on the sofa, which sagged under him, and began taking things out of the pockets of his coat: a copper kettle, a package of sausages, a poker, a teapot, chipped mugs, and a bottle of some liquor that he took a swig from before starting to make tea. Soon the hut was filled of the sound and smell of sizzling sausage. Nobody said a thing while the giant was working, but as he slid the sausages from the poker, Dudley fidgeted a little. Mr. Dursley said sharply, "Don't touch anything he gives you, Dudley."

Hagrid chuckled darkly.

"Yer great puddin' of a son don' need fattenin' anymore, Dursley, don' worry."

He passed the sausages to Harry, who offered some to Elle. She just politely shook her head and smiled when Harry shrugged and began to scarf them down before finally he said, "I'm sorry, but I still don't really know who you are."

"Call me Hagrid," he said after taking a large gulp of tea, "everyone does. An' like I told yeh, I'm Keeper of Keys at Hogwarts — yeh'll know all about Hogwarts, o' course."

"Er — no," said Harry.

"I told you," said Elle to Hagrid. "He doesn't know anything about it."

"Nothing?" said Hagrid in disbelief.

Harry looked between Hagrid and Elle very curiously. It was obvious that Hagrid was shocked that Harry didn't know anything about Hogwarts, and Harry frowned.

"Sorry," Harry said quickly.

"_Sorry?"_ barked Hagrid, turning to stare at the Dursleys, who shrank back into the shadows. Harry seemed shocked and reached for Elle's hand. "It's them that should be sorry! I knew yeh weren't getting' yer letters but I never thought yeh wouldn't even know about' Hogwarts, fer cryin' out loud! Did yeh never wonder where yer parents learned it all?"

"All what?" asked Harry.

"ALL WHAT?" Hagrid shouted. "Now wait jus' one second!"

He was now on his feet, and anger was practically radiating off him.

"Do yeh mean ter tell me that this boy — this boy! — knows nothin' abou' — about ANYTHING?"

"I know _some_ things," muttered Harry, getting a little defensive. "I can, you know, do math and stuff."

But Hagrid simply waved his hand and said, "About _our_ world, I mean. _Your _world. _My_ world._ Elle's _world. _Yer parents' world_."

"What world?"

Hagrid looked as if he was about to explode.

"DURSLEY!" thundered Hagrid.

Mr. Dursley muttered something inaudible.

"But yeh must know about yer mum and dad," he said. "I mean, they're _famous_. You're _famous, _Harry! You, too, Elle! An' o' course your parents were famous, too."

"What? My — my mum and dad weren't famous were they?"

"Yeh don't know . . . yeh don't know . . ." Hagrid ran his fingers through his hair and Elle was sitting there, frozen. How was she famous? How was Harry famous? How were their _parents _famous? Mr. and Mrs. Chadwick had never said anything about that.

"Yeh don't know what yeh _are_?" he said finally.

"Stop!" commanded Mr. Dursley. "Stop right there, sir! I forbid you to the boy anything!"

When Hagrid spoke, every word was trembling with rage.

"You never told him? Never told him what was in the letter Dumbledore left for him? I was there! I saw Dumbledore leave it, Dursley! An' you've kept it from his all these years?"

"Kept _what_ from me?" said Harry eagerly, now feeling fine again, and so he released Elle's hand.

"STOP! I FORBID YOU!" yelled Mr. Dursley in panic while Mrs. Dursley gasped in horror.

"Ah, go boil yer heads, both of yeh," barked Hagrid. "Harry — yer a wizard."


	6. Chapter Five

Secret Relations

Chapter Five

Complete silence fell over them and Elle studied Harry, who seemed completely shocked.

"I'm a what?" Harry finally managed.

"A wizard, o' course," said Hagrid, "an' a thumpin' good'un, I'd say, once yeh've been trained up a bit. With a mum an' dad like yours, what else would yeh be? An' I reckon it's abou' time yeh read this letter."

He handed Harry the letter, who stretched out his hand to take the yellowish envelope. He pulled out the letter and began reading it immediately. Elle reached into her coat pocket and felt her own letter, happily taking it between her fingers, assuring her that this was real — it was finally happening.

Harry finished reading the letter and asked, "What does it mean, they await my owl?"

"Gallopin' Gorgons, that reminds me," said Hagrid as he pulled several things out of his pockets, including a live owl, a long quill, and a roll of parchment. He began scribbling something down, rolled it up, gave it to the owl, and sent it out into the storm. Then he came back and sat down as if it was a perfectly normal thing.

"Where was I?" Hagrid said.

"He's not going," Mr. Dursley said suddenly, but Hagrid grunted.

"I'd like ter see a great Muggle like you stop him."

"A what?" said Harry.

"A Muggle," said Hagrid, "it's what we call nonmagic folk like them. An' it's your bad luck you grew up in a family o' the biggest Muggles I ever laid eyes on."

"We swore when we took him in we'd put a stop to that rubbish," said Mr. Dursley, "swore we'd stamp it out of him! Wizard indeed!"

"You _knew_?" said Harry. "You _knew_ I'm a — a wizard?"

"Knew?" Mrs. Dursley scoffed. "_Knew! _Of course we knew! How could you not be, my dratted sister being what she was? Oh, she got a letter just like that and disappeared off to that — that _school_ — and came home every vacation with her pockets full of frog spawn, turning teacups into rats. I was the only one who saw her for what she was — a freak! But for my mother and father, oh no, it was Lily this and Lily that, they were proud of having a witch in the family."

Mrs. Dursley took a deep breath and continued her ranting.

"Then she met that Potter at school and they left and got married and had you, and of course I knew you'd be just the same, just as strange, just as — as —_abnormal _— and then, if you please, she went and got herself blown up and we got landed with you!"

Harry looked shocked for a moment, as if lost for words. When he finally found some words to say, he said, " Blown up? You told me they died in a car crash!"

"CAR CRASH!" roared Hagrid, jumping to his feet. "How could a car crash kill Lily an' James Potter? It's an outrage! A scandal! Harry Potter not knowin' his own story when every kid in our world knows his name!"

"But why? What happened?" Harry asked.

Hagrid grew solemn, and Elle paused — she had never heard exactly what happened to Harry's parents, or her own. The Chadwicks had always told Elle her mother's death was a mystery, and that no one knew who her father was. As for Harry's parents. . . . Well, they never said much when Elle asked.

"I never expected this," Hagrid said in a low voice. "I had no idea, when Dumbledore told me there might be trouble getting' hold of yeh, how much yeh didn't know. Ah, Harry, I don' know if I'm the right person ter tell yeh — but someone's gotta — yeh can't go off ter Hogwarts not knowin'."

Hagrid gave the Dursley's a dirty look.

"Well, it's best yeh know as much as I can tell yeh — mind, I can't tell yeh everythin', it's a great mystery, parts of it . . ."

Hagrid sat down and stared at the fire before he said, "It begins, I suppose, with — with a person called — but it's incredible you don't know his name, everyone in our world knows—"

"Who?"

"Well — I don't like sayin' the name if I can help it. No one does."

"Why not?"

"Gulpin' gargoyles, Harry, people are still scared. Blimey, this is difficult. See there was this wizard who went . . . bad. As bad as you could go. Worse. Worse that worse. His name was . . ."

"Could you write it down?" Elle and Harry suggested simultaneously.

"Nah — can't spell it. All right — _Voldemort._" Hagrid shuddered. "Don' make me say it again. Anyway, this — this wizard about twenty years ago now, started lookin' fer followers. Got 'em, too — some were afraid, some just wanted a bit o' his power, 'cause he was getting' himself power, all right. Dark days, Harry. Didn't know who ter trust, didn't dare get friendly with strange wizards of witches . . . terrible things happed. He was takin' over. 'Course, some stood up to him — an' he killed 'em. Horribly. One o' the only safe places left was Hogwarts. Reckon Dumbledore's the only one You-Know-Who was afraid of. Didn't dare try takin' the school, not jus' then, anyway.

"Now, Harry, yer mum an' dad were as good a witch an' wizard as I ever knew. Head boy an' girl at Hogwarts in their day! Suppose the mystery is why You-Know-Who never tried to get them on his side before . . . probably knew they were too closer ter Dumbledore ter want anything' ter do with the Dark side.

"Elle, yer mum was quite the lady. She was close to Lily an' James — amazing witch, really," said Hagrid. "She went to school with Lily an' James. . . . You could never find Lily without Elle, they were quite the pair."

"And my father?" Elle said eagerly — she had never heard anything about him. However, Hagrid said nothing — in fact, he looked just as uncomfortable at the mention of Elle's father as he did saying_ '__Voldemort'_.

"I'm, uh. . . . I'm not the one to ask about that. . . . But anyway. . . . Maybe You-Know-Who thought he could persuade 'em . . . maybe he just wanted 'em outta the way. All anyone knows is, he turned up in the village where you was all living, on Halloween ten years ago. You was just a year old. He came ter yer house an' — an' —"

Hagrid pulled out a handkerchief and blew his nose.

"Sorry," he said. "But it's that sad — knew both o' yer mum an' dad, an' nicer people yeh couldn't find — anyway . . .

"You-Know-Who killed 'em. An' then — an' this is the real mystery of the thing — he tried to kill you too, Harry. Wanted ter make a clean job of it, I suppose, or maybe he just liked killin' by then. But he couldn't do it. Never wondered how you got that mark on your forehead? That was no ordinary cut. That's what yeh get when a powerful, evil curse touched yeh — took care of yeh mum an' dad an' yer house, even — but it didn't work on you, an' that's why yer famous, Harry. No one ever lived after he decided ter kill 'em, no one except you, an' he'd killed some o' the best witches an' wizards of the age — the McKinnons, the Bones, the Prewetts — an' you was only a baby, an' you lived."

Elle watched as Harry began to slowly digest what Hagrid told him. She felt guilty, not telling him the truth earlier, about him being a wizard and everything, but she had been forbidden to say anything.

"I arrived at Godric's Hollow to come get you, and that's when I also got you, Elle," said Hagrid.

"Do you. . . . Do you know what happened to my mother?" said Elle curiously — this was the first time she had ever heard anything about that fateful night, and she wanted to learn as much as she could.

Hagrid frowned some, scratching his chin through his wild beard. "Ah, well. . . . A woman by the name Bellatrix Lestrange killer yer mother, Elle. Bellatrix wanted to steal you," he said. Elle's eyes widened some — Bellatrix wanted to steal her when she was just a child? But why? However, Hagrid continued. "Luckily, yer mum's friend, Remus Lupin, he was able to stop her from takin' yeh, but he wasn't able to save yer mum. . . . But he brought you to Godric's Hollow, an' that's where I met him."

Elle hd never heard anything like that — her parents had never mentioned a Remus Lupin any of the times they told Elle about that day. They hadn't told her a lot of things apparently. . . .

"Then I took Harry from the ruined house myself, on Dumbledore's orders. Brought yeh ter this lot. . . ," Hagrid finished.

"Load of tosh," scoffed Uncle Vernon. Elle and Harry both jumped; they had forgotten the Dursleys were still there. Mr. Dursley was now glaring at Harry and Elle, but mostly Harry.

"Now, you listen here, boy," he growled, "I accept there's something strange about you, probably nothing a good beating wouldn't have cured — and as for all this about your parents, well, they were weirdos, no denying it, and the world's better off without them in my opinion — asked for all they got, getting mixed up with these wizarding types — just what I expected, always knew they'd come to a sticky end —"

Hagrid leapt to his feet and pointed his umbrella at Mr. Dursley. "I'm warning you, Dursley — I'm warning you — one more word . . ."

Mr. Dursley fell silent and he took a few steps backwards.

"That's better," said Hagrid, letting out a sigh and sitting back down.

"But what happened to Vol-, sorry — I mean, You-Know-Who?" Elle asked just as Harry was about to asked something.

"Good question, Elle. Disappeared. Vanished. Same night he tried ter kill Harry. Makes yeh two even more famous. That's the biggest mystery, see . . . he was getting' more an' more powerful — why'd he go?

"Some say he died. Codswallop, in my opinion. Dunno if he had enough human left in him to die. Some say he's still out there, bidin' his time, like, but I don' believe it. People who was on his side came back ter outs. Some of 'em came outta kinda trances. Don' reckon they could've done it if he was comin' back.

"Most of us reckon he's still out there somewhere but lost his powers. Too weak to carry on. 'Cause something' about you finished him, Harry. There was somethin' goin' on that night he hadn't counted on — _I_ dunno what it was, no one does — but somethin' about you stumped him, all right."

Hagrid was smiling at the two of them with warmth and respect, and Elle returned the smile. She then looked to Harry and realized he wasn't smiling. He seemed to be debating something in his head.

"What's wrong, Harry?" she asked, sitting up slightly.

"Hagrid," Harry said softly, "I think you must have made a mistake. I don't think I can be a wizard."

Hagrid laughed.

"Not a wizard, eh? Never made things happen when you was scared or angry?"

Harry paused and began thinking. Elle couldn't help but let her memory wander — the incident at the zoo was obviously the most recent memory that came to mind, but then she also recalled the time where she and Harry had been running from Dudley and his friends and ended up on the roof.

Hagrid, upon seeing Harry was remembering things he made happened, smiled.

"See? Harry Potter, not a wizard — you wait, you'll be right famous at Hogwarts."

"Haven't I told you he's not going?" hissed Mr. Dursley. "He's going to Stonewall High and he'll be grateful for it. I've read those letters and he needs all sorts of rubbish — spell books and wands and —"

"If he wants ter go, a great Muggle like you won't stop him," said Hagrid. "Stop Lily an' James Potter's son goin' ter Hogwarts! Yer mad. His name's been down ever since he was born. He's off ter the finest school of witchcraft and wizardry in the world. Seven years there and he won't know himself. He'll be with youngsters of his own sort, fer a change, an' he'll be under the greatest headmaster Hogwarts ever had, Albus Dumbled —"

"I AM NOT PAYING FOR SOME CRACKPOT OLD FOOL TO TEACH HIM MAGIC TRICKS!" yelled Mr. Dursley.

That did it. Hagrid seized his umbrella and whirled it over his head, "NEVER —" he thundered, "— INSULT — ALBUS — DUMBLEDORE — IN — FRONT — OF — ME!"

He brought the umbrella swishing down through the air to point at Dudley — there was a flash of violet light, a sound like a firecracker, a sharp squeal, and the next second, Dudley was dancing on the spot with his hands clasped over his fat bottom, howling in pain. When he turned his back on them, Elle saw a curly pig's tail poking through the hole in his trousers.

Mr. Dursley roared. Pulling Mrs. Dursley and Dudley into the other room, he cast one last terrified look at Hagrid and slammed the door behind them.

Hagrid looked down at his umbrella and stroked his beard.

"Shouldn'ta lost me temper," he said ruefully, "but it didn't work anyway. Meant ter turn him into a pig, but I suppose he was so much like a pig anyway there wasn't much left ter do."

He cast a sideways look at Harry and Elle under his bushy eyebrows.

"Be grateful if yeh two didn't mention that ter anyone at Hogwarts," he said. "I'm — er — not supposed ter do magic, strictly speakin'. I was allowed ter do a bit ter follow yeh an' get yer letter to yeh an' stuff — one o' the reasons I was so keen ter take on the job —"

"Why aren't you supposed to do magic?" asked Harry.

"Oh, well — I was at Hogwarts meself but I — er — got expelled, ter tell yeh the truth. In me third year. They snapped me wand in half an' everything. But Dumbledore let me stay on as gamekeeper. Great man, Dumbledore."

"Why were you expelled?" Elle asked him.

"It's getting' late and we've got lots ter do tomorrow," said Hagrid loudly. "Gotta get up ter town, get all yer books an' that."

He took of his thick black coat and threw it to Harry and Elle.

"You can kip under that," he said. "Don' mind if it wriggles a bit, I think I still got a couple o' dormice in one o' the pockets."


	7. Chapter Six

Secret Relations

Chapter Six

The next morning, Elle was woken up very by Harry, who gently shook his friend's shoulders. She groaned and sat up groggily, Hagrid's heavy coat falling off of her. The hut was full of sunlight, the storm was over, Hagrid himself was asleep on the collapsed sofa, and there was an owl rapping its claw on the window, a newspaper held in its beak.

"Urgh… What is it?" she murmured.

"There's an owl," Harry whispered to her.

"Alright, then let it in," muttered Elle, rubbing her eyes.

Harry scrambled to his feet and went straight to the window, jerking it open. The owl swooped in and dropped the newspaper on top of Hagrid, who didn't wake up. The owl then fluttered onto the floor and began to attack Hagrid's coat.

"Don't do that," Harry said, coming over to Elle and the owl, which was pecking at Hagrid's coat.

Hagrid tried to wave the owl out of the way, but it snapped its beak fiercely at him and carried on savaging the boat.

"Hagrid!" said Harry loudly. "There's an owl! —"

"We've got pay him, Harry," Elle said with a laugh — it was going to be quite interesting to teach Harry about the wizarding world.

"What?" Harry said.

"He ways payin' fer deliverin' the paper. Look in the pockets," Hagrid grunted into the sofa.

Hagrid's coat seemed to made of nothing _but_ pockets — bunches of keys, slug pellets, balls of string, peppermint humbugs, teabags . . . finally Harry and Elle pulled out a handful of strange-looking coins.

"Give him five Knuts," said Hagrid sleepily.

"Knuts?"

"The little bronze ones," said Elle, points to a Knut.

Harry counted out five little bronze coins, and the owl held out his leg so Harry could put the money into a small leather pouch tied to it. Then he flew off through the open window.

Hagrid yawned loudly, sat up, and stretched.

"Best be off, yeh two, lots ter do today, gotta get up ter London an' buy all yer stuff fer school."

"Um — Hagrid?" Harry said softly.

"Mm?" said Hagrid, who was pulling on his huge boots.

Elle looked at Harry, and saw he was looking down at the coins in his hand, frowning softly.

"I haven't got any money — and you heard Uncle Vernon last night . . . he won't pay for me to go and learn magic."

"Don't worry about that," said Hagrid, standing up and scratching his head. "D'yeh think yer parents didn't leave yeh anything?"

"But if their house was destroyed —"

"They didn' keep their gold in the house, boy! Nah, first stop fer us is Gringotts. Wizards' bank. Have a sausage, they're not bad cold — an' I wouldn' say no the a bit o' yer birthday cake, neither."

"Wizards have _banks_?" said Harry, his eyes wide.

"Just the one. Gringotts. Run by goblins."

Harry dropped the bit of sausage he was holding.

_"Goblins?"_

"Yeah — so yeh'd be mad ter try an' rob it, I'll tell yeh that. Never mess with goblins, Harry. Gringotts is the safest place in the world fer anything yeh want ter keep safe —'cept maybe Hogwarts. As a matter o' fact, I gotta visit Gringotts anyway. Fer Dumbledore. Hogwarts business." Hagrid drew himself up proudly. "He usually gets me ter do important stuff fer him. Fetchin' you an' Elle — gettin' things from Gringotts — knows he can trust me, see.

"Got everythin'? Come on, then."

Harry and Elle followed Hagrid out onto the rock. The sky was quite clear now and the sea gleamed in the sunlight. The boat Uncle Vernon had hired was still there, with a lot of water in the bottom after the storm. Hagrid's bike was gone, but Elle assumed that he simply charmed it to go back to Hogwarts, or wherever it was that he kept it.

"How did you get here?" Harry asked, looking around for another boat.

"Flew," said Hagrid.

_"Flew?"_

"Yeah — but we'll go back in this. Not s'pposed ter use magic now I've got yeh."

They settled down in the boat, and Harry settled down beside Elle, and they both sat across from Hagrid.

"You two _flew_ here?" Harry whispered to Elle. "On _what_?"

Elle smiled ever so softly.

"A motorcycle," she replied.

Harry's eyes widened and he stared at Hagrid with wide eyes, obviously trying to imagine a bike big enough to be able to fly Hagrid.

"Seems a shame ter row, though," said Hagrid, giving Elle and Harry another of his sideways looks. "If I was ter — er — speed things up a bit, would yeh mind not mentionin' it at Hogwarts?"

"Of course not," said Harry quickly — Elle could tell he was eager to see more magic.

"Go ahead," Elle said with a smile.

Hagrid pulled out the pink umbrella again, tapped it twice on the side of the boat, and they sped off toward land.

"Why would you be mad to try and rob Gringotts?" Harry asked.

"Spells — enchantments," said Hagrid, unfolding his newspaper as he spoke. "They say there's dragons guardin' the high-security vaults. And then yeh gotta find yer way — Gringotts is hundreds of miles under London, see. Deep under the Underground. Yeh'd die of hunger tryin' ter get out, even if yeh did manage ter get yer hands on summat."

Harry and Elle watched while Hagrid read his newspaper, the _Daily Prophet_.

"I've got so many questions," Harry muttered to Elle. "But I don't want to bother him."

"Bother him?" Elle echoed, chuckling. "Harry, you're not going to bother anyone — it's natural to have questions; you're just learning about all of this."

"I know," he muttered.

"Ministry o' Magic messin' things up as usual," Hagrid muttered suddenly, turning the page. Harry looked away from Elle, still frowning some, and looked at Hagrid.

"There's a Ministry of Magic?" Harry asked, before he could stop himself.

"'Course," said Hagrid. "They wanted Dumbledore fer Minister, o' course, but he'd never leave Hogwarts, so old Cornelius Fudge got the job. Bungler if ever there was one. So he pelts Dumbledore with owls every morning, askin' fer advice."

"But what does a Ministry of Magic do?"

"Well, their main job is to keep it from the Muggles that there's still witches an' wizards up an' down the country."

"Why?"

"Why? Blimey, Harry, everyone'd be wantin' magic solutions to their problems. Nah, we're best left alone."

At this moment the boat bumped gently into the harbor wall. Hagrid folded up his newspaper, and they clambered up the stone steps onto the street.

Passersby stared a lot at Hagrid as they walked through the little town to the station. Elle couldn't blame them. Not only was Hagrid twice as tall as anyone else, he kept pointing at perfectly ordinary things like parking meters and saying loudly, "See that? Things these Muggles dream up, eh?"

"Hagrid," said Elle, panting a bit as she and Harry ran to keep up, "did you say there are _dragons_ at Gringotts?"

"Well, so they say," said Hagrid. "Crikey, I'd like a dragon."

"You'd _like_ one?" said Harry.

"Wanted one ever since I was a kid — here we go."

They had reached the station. There was a train to London in five minutes' time. Hagrid, who didn't understand "Muggle money," as he called it, gave the bills to Elle and Harry so they could buy their tickets.

People stared more that ever on the train. Hagrid took up two seats and sat knitting what looked like a canary-yellow circus tent.

"Still got yer letter, yeh two?" he asked as he counted stitches.

Harry and Elle took the parchment envelope out of their pockets.

"Good," said Hagrid. "There's a list there of everything yeh need."

Elle unfolded the second piece of paper she hadn't noticed before, and read:

HOGWARTS SCHOOL

_of _WITCHCRAFT_ and _WIZARDRY

UNIFORM

First—year students will require:

1\. Three sets of plain work robes (black)

2\. One plain pointed hat (black) for day wear

3\. One pair of protective gloves (dragon hide or similar)

4\. One winter cloak (black, silver fastening)

Please note that all pupils' clothes should carry name tags

COURSE BOOKS

All students should have a copy of each of the following:

_The Standard Book of Spells (Grade 1)_ by Miranda Goshawk

_A History of Magic _by Bathilda Bagshot

_Magic Theory _by Adalbert Waffling

_A Beginners' Guide to Transfiguration _by Emeric Smith

_One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi_ by Phyllida Spore

_Magical Drafts and Potions _by Arsenius Jigger

_Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them_ by Newt Scamander

_The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self—Protection_ by Quentin Trimble

OTHER EQUIPMENT

1 wand

1 cauldron (pewter, standard size 2)

1 set glass or crystal phials

1 telescope

1 set brass scales

Students may also bring an owl OR a cat OR a toad

PARENTS ARE REMINDED THAT FIRST YEARS

ARE NOT ALLOWED THEIR OWN BROOM STICKS

"Can we buy all this is London?" Elle asked.

"If yeh knew where to go," said Hagrid.

When they got off the train, they made their way out into the city and Elle and Harry followed Hagrid through the streets until he finally came to a stop.

"This is it," said Hagrid, "the Leaky Cauldron. It's a famous place."

It was a tiny, grubbing—looking pub. If Hagrid hadn't pointed it out, Elle wouldn't have noticed it was there. The people hurrying by didn't glance at it. Elle had a feeling that only she, Harry, and Hagrid could see it. Before she could say anything though, Hagrid motioned them inside.

The Leaky Cauldron was very dark and shabby. A few old women were sitting in a corner, drinking tiny glasses of sherry. One of them was smoking a long pipe. A little man in a top hat was talking to the old bartender, who was quite bald and looked like a toothless walnut. The low buzz of chatter stopped when they walked in. Everyone seemed to know Hagrid; they waved and smiled at him, and the bartender reached for a glass, saying, "The usual, Hagrid?"

"Can't, Tom. I'm on Hogwarts business," said Hagrid, clapping his great hands on Elle and Harry's shoulders and making their knees buckle.

"Good Lord," said the bartender, peering at the two of them, "is this — can it be —?"

Everyone in the Leaky Cauldron became completely still and silent.

"Bless my soul," whispered the old bartender, "Harry Potter . . . what an honor."

The bartender rushed out from behind the counter and over towards Harry and shook his hand. He then paused and looked at Elle, who stood there awkwardly.

"And you. . . ," he looked at her, studying her face. Then his eyes widened some. "Are you. . . . Are you Eleanor Riddle?"

Elle stood there in shock — how did he recognize her?

"Er, y-yes, sir," said Elle softly.

"It's a pleasure to meet you," said the bartender, shaking her hand. "I knew your mother — an amazing witch, and very brave — it's an honor to meet you."

He then looked between the two friends, smiling broadly. "Welcome back, Mr. Potter and Miss Riddle, welcome back."

Then, everyone stood began to shake their hands. After everyone shook their hands, a pale young man made his way forward, very nervously. One of his eyes was twitching.

"Professor Quirrell!" said Hagrid. "Elle, Harry, Professor Quirrell will be one of your teachers at Hogwarts."

"P-P-Potter and R-Riddle," stammered Professor Quirrell, grasping their hands, "c-can't t-tell you how p-pleased I am to meet you."

"What sort of magic do you teach, Professor Quirrell?" Elle asked him.

"D-Defense Against the D-D-Dark Arts," muttered Professor Quirrell. "N-not that you n-need it, eh, you t-two?" He laughed nervously. "You'll be g-getting all your equipment, I suppose? I've g-got to p-pick up a new b-book on vampires, m-myself."

That was all he got to say because everyone else wanted to talk to Elle and Harry. At last, after ten minutes, Hagrid managed to make himself heard over the crowd.

"Must get on — lots ter buy. Come on, yeh two."

They walked through the Leaky Cauldron and out into a small courtyard, where there was nothing but just one trash can and a couple of weeds.

"Told yeh, didn't I? Told yeh you was famous. Even Professor Quirrell was tremblin' ter meet yeh — mind you, he's usually tremblin'."

"Is he always nervous?" Harry asked.

"Yeah, he seemed scared or something," muttered Elle.

"Oh, yeah. Poor bloke. Brilliant mind. He was fine while he was studyin' outta books but then he took a year off ter get some first hand experience. . . . They say he met vampires in the Black Forest, and there was a nasty bit o' trouble with a hag — never been the same since. Scared of the students, scared of his own subject — now, where's me umbrella?"

"Vampires? Hags?" questioned Harry, giving Elle a quizzical look. She laughed.

"It'll be a bit of a shock at first, but it'll make sense soon enough," Elle assured him.

"Three up . . . two across . . ." Hagrid muttered after he finished examining the wall. "Right, stand back, yeh two."

He tapped the wall three times with the point of this umbrella.

The brick he had touched quivered — it wriggled — in the middle, a small hole appeared — it grew wider and wider — a second later they were facing an archway large enough even for Hagrid, an archway onto a cobbled street that twisted and turned out of sight.

"Welcome," said Hagrid, "to Diagon Alley."

He grinned at their amazement. They stepped through the archway. Elle and Harry both turned and saw the archway shrink instantly back into the solid wall.

The sun shone brightly on a stack of cauldrons outside the nearest shop. Cauldrons — All Sizes — Copped, Brass, Pewter, Silver — Self—Stirring — Collapsible, said a sign hanging over them.

"Yeah, you'll be needin' one," said Hagrid, "but we gotta get yer money first."

Elle turned her head in every direction as they walked up the street, trying to look at everything at once: the shops, the things outside them, the people doing their shopping. A plump woman outside an Apothecary was shaking her head as they passed, saying, "Dragon liver, sixteen Sickles an ounce, they're mad. . . ."

A low, soft hooting came from a dark shop with a sign saying Eeylops Owl Emporium — Tawny, Screech, Barn, Brown, and Snowy. Elle paused and looked at a small tawny owl that was sleeping in its cage, its head tucked under its wing. Harry tugged on her hand and she began following him. Her eye caught a glimpse of a pet store that sold only cats, and Elle rushed over and pressed her face against the glass to watch the kittens. She was particularly fond of a small tortoiseshell kitten that was sitting in the far corner, watching the other kittens playfully tackle each other. Once again, Harry had to pull her away from the store.

"But our list says we can bring a cat," Elle groaned.

"We haven't got our money yet, remember?" Harry reminded her.

Elle sighed heavily but nodded — Harry did have a point. So, the two of the continued following after Hagrid, looking around at all the shops they passed. Several boys of about Elle and Harry's age had their noses pressed against a window with broomsticks in it. "Look," Elle heard one of them say, "the new Nimbus Two Thousand — fastest ever —" There were shops selling robes, shops selling telescopes and strange silver instruments Elle had never seen before, windows stacked with barrels of bat spleen and eels' eyes, tottering piled of spell books, quills, and rolls of parchment, potion bottles, globes of the moon. . . .

"Gringotts," said Hagrid.

They had reached a snowy white building that towered over the other little shops. Standing beside its burnished bronze doors, wearing a uniform of scarlet and gold, was —

"Yeah, that's a goblin," said Hagrid quietly as they walked up the white stone steps towards him. The goblin was about a head shorter than Elle. He had a swarthy, clever face, pointed beard and, Elle noticed, very long fingers and feet. He bowed as they walked inside. Now they were facing a second pair of doors, silver this time, with words engraved upon them:

_Enter, stranger, but take heed_

_Of what awaits the sin of greed,_

_For those who take, but do not earn,_

_Must pay most dearly in their turn._

_So if you seek beneath our floor_

_A treasure that was never yours,_

_Thief, you have been warned, beware_

_Of finding more than treasure there._

"Like I said, yeh'd be mad ter try an' rob it," said Hagrid.

A pair of goblins bowed them through the silver doors and they were in a vast marble hall. About a hundred more goblins were sitting on high stools behind a long counter, scribbling in large ledgers, weighing coins in brass scales, examining precious stones through eyeglasses. There were too many doors to count leading off the hall, and yet more goblins were showing people in and out of these. Hagrid, Harry, and Elle made for the counter.

"Morning," said Hagrid to a free goblin. "We've come ter take some money outta Mr. Harry Potter's safe, along with Miss Elle Riddle's."

"You have their keys, sir?"

"Got 'em here somewhere," said Hagrid, and he started emptying his pockets onto the counter, scattering a handful of moldy dog biscuits over the goblin's book of numbers. The goblin wrinkled his nose. Harry and Elle watched the goblin on their right weighing a pile of rubies as big as glowing coals.

"Got it," said Hagrid at last, holding up two tiny golden keys.

The goblin looked at them closely.

"That seems to be in order."

"An' I've also got a letter here from Professor Dumbledore," said Hagrid importantly, throwing out his chest. "It's about You-Know-What in vault seven hundred and thirteen."

The goblin read the letter carefully.

"Very well," he said, handing it back to Hagrid, "I will have someone take you down to the vaults. Griphook!"

Griphook was yet another goblin. Once Hagrid had crammed all the dog biscuits back inside his pockets, he, Elle, and Harry followed Griphook toward one of the doors leading off the hall.

"What's the You-Know-What in vault seven hundred and thirteen?" Harry asked.

"Can't tell yeh that," said Hagrid mysteriously. "Very secret. Hogwarts buisness. Dumbledore's trusted me. More'n my job's worth ter tell yeh that."

Griphook held the door open for them. Elle was surprised. They were in a narrow stone passageway lit with flaming torches (she was expecting more marble, and by the look on his face, she assumed Harry had, too). It sloped steeply downward and there were little railway tracks on the floor. Griphook whistled and a small cart came hurtling up the tracks toward them. They climbed in — Hagrid with some difficulty — and were off.

At first they just hurtled through a maze of twisting passages, Elle tried to remember, left, right, right, left, middle fork, right, left, but it was impossible. The rattling cart seemed to know its own way, because Griphook wasn't steering.

Elle's eyes stung as the cold air rushed past them, but she kept the wide open. Once, she thought she saw a burst of fire at the end of a passage and twisted around to see if it was a dragon, but too late — they plunged even deeper, passing at underground lake where huge stalactites and stalagmites grew from the ceiling floor.

"I never know," Elle called to Hagrid and Harry over the noise of the cart, "what's the difference between a stalagmite and a stalactite?"

"Stalagmite's got an' 'm' in it," said Hagrid. "An' don' ask me questions just now, I think I'm gonna be sick.

He did look very green, and when the cart stopped at last beside a small door in the passage wall, Hagrid got out and had to lean against the wall to stop his knees from trembling.

"This is Mr. Potter's safe," said Griphook.

Griphook unlocked the door. A lot of green smoke came billowing out, and as it cleared, Harry and Lily gasped. Inside were mounds of gold coins. Columns of silver. Heaps of little bronze Knuts.

"All yours," smiled Hagrid.

All Harry's — it was incredible. Hagrid helped Harry pile some of it into a bag, and they went off to Elle's safe, where they found the same thing.

It was like the treasures you usually see pirate movies. Gold, silver, and copper coins glittered everywhere, and Elle was momentarily stunned.

Harry walked into the vault behind her, and Hagrid laughed seeing that Harry too was shocked by the amount of gold, silver, and copper residing in there.

"There's so much," Harry muttered.

"I know," breathed Elle. "What in the world did my mum do?"

"Yer mum was famous," said Hagrid. "She was braver than most witches her age — did things people would have never even thought of doing. She earned herself quite a bit of money doing what she did."

"But. . . . What did she do?" said Elle curiously.

Hagrid frowned some and cleared his throat some before taking a small back and scooping quite a bit of money into the bag.

"That should be enough fer a couple o' terms," he said before handing it to Elle.

"But — Hagrid," Elle said softly. Why wouldn't he answer her question?

Hagrid turned to Griphook.

"Vault seven hundred and thirteen now; please, and can we go more slowly?"

"One speed only," said Griphook.

They were going even deep now and gathering speed. The air became colder and colder as they hurtled round tight corners. They went rattling over an underground ravine, and Elle and Harry both leaned over the side to try to see what was down at the dark bottom, but Hagrid groaned and pulled them both back by the scruff of their necks.

Vault seven hundred and thirteen had no keyhole.

"Stand back," said Griphook importantly. He stroked the door gently with one of his long fingers and it simple melted away.

"If anyone but a Gringotts goblin tried that, they'd be sucked though the door and trapped in there," said Griphook.

"How often do you check to see if anyone's inside?" Harry asked.

"About once every ten years," said Griphook with a rather nasty grin.

"Remind me never to break into Gringotts," Elle muttered to Harry. He laughed.

Something really extraordinary had to be inside this top security vault, and Harry and Elle leaned forward eagerly, expecting to see fabulous jewels at the very least — but at first they thought it was empty. Then she noticed a grubby little package wrapped up in brown paper lying on the floor. Hagrid picked it up and ticked it deep inside his coat. Though Elle and Harry wanted to know what it was, they decided not to ask.

"Come on, back in this infernal cart, and don't talk to me on the way back, it's best if I keep me mouth shut," said Hagrid.

One wild cart ride later, they stood blinking in the sunlight outside Gringotts.

"Might as well get yer uniform," said Hagrid, nodding toward Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions. "Listen, Harry, Elle, would yeh mind if I slipped off fer a pick-me-up at the Leaky Cauldron? I hate them Gringotts carts." He did still look a bit sick, so Elle and Harry enter Madam Malkin's shop alone, feeling nervous.

Madam Malkin was a squat, smiling witch dressed all in mauve.

"Hogwarts, dear?" she said, when they started to speak. "Got the lot here — another young man being fitted up just now, in fact."

In the back of the shop, a boy with a pale, pointed face was standing on a footstool while a second witch pinned up his long black robes. Madame Malkin stood Harry and Elle on stools next to him, slipped a long robe over their heads, and began to pin it to the right length. Another witch worked on Elle's robes.

"Hello," said the boy, "Hogwarts, too?"

"Yeah," said Harry.

"Mhmm," smiled Elle.

"My father's next door buying my books and Mother's up the street looking at wands," said the boy. He had a bored, drawling voice. "Then I'm going to drag them off to look at racing brooms. I don't see why first years can't have their own. I think I'll bully Father into getting me one and I'll smuggle it in somehow."

Elle was strongly reminded of Dudley, and she stole a glance at Harry, who was also looking in her direction, and he rolled his eyes ever so slightly when the two made eye contact. Elle smiled softly — Harry must have had the same thought as her.

"Have _you _got your own broom?" the boy went on.

"No," they said in unison.

"Play Quidditch at all?"

"No," they said again, and Elle realized Harry probably didn't even know what Quidditch was.

"_I_ do — Father says it's a crime if I'm not picked to play for my House, and I must say, I agree. Know what House you'll be in yet?"

"Nope."

"Well, no one really knows until they get there, do they, but I know I'll be in Slytherin, all our family have been — imagine being in Hufflepuff, I think I'd leave, wouldn't you?"

"I don't think I'd go that far," Elle muttered.

"Mmm," was all Harry said, looking a bit uncomfortable.

"I say, look at that man!" said the boy suddenly, nodding toward the front window. Hagrid was standing there, grinning at Harry and Elle and pointed at three large ice creams to show he couldn't come in.

"That's Hagrid," said Harry.

"He works at Hogwarts," said Elle. She was liking the boy less and less every second.

"Oh," said the boy, "I've heard of him. He's a sort of servant, isn't he?"

"He's the gamekeeper," said Harry.

"Yes, exactly. I heard he's a sort of savage — lived in a hut on the school grounds and every now and then he gets drunks, tries to do magic and ends up setting fire to his bed."

"I think he's brilliant," Elle said coldly.

"_Do_ you?" said the boy, with a slight sneer. Elle clenched her first. "Why is he with you two? Where are your parents?"

"They're dead," said Harry shortly. The boy looked at Elle, waiting for her response.

"My mum's dead," said Elle. "Never met my father."

"Oh, sorry," he said, not sounding sorry at all. "But they were _our_ kind, weren't they?"

"They were a witch and wizard, if that's what you mean," said Harry.

"Mine were, too — not that that should really matter," said Elle coolly.

"I really don't think they should let the other sort in, do you? They're just not the same, they've never been brought up to know our ways. Some of them have never even heard of Hogwarts until they get the letter, imagine. I think they should keep it in the old wizarding families. What are your surnames, anyway?"

But before Harry or Elle could answer, Madam Malkin said, "That's you done, my dears," and Harry and Elle, not sorry for an excuse to stop talking to the boy, hopped down from their footstools.

"Well, I'll see you at Hogwarts, I suppose." said the drawling boy.

Harry and Elle were rather quiet as they ate the ice cream Hagrid had bought them (chocolate and raspberry with chopped nuts).

"What's up?" said Hagrid.

"Nothing," replied the two of them. They stopped to buy parchment and quills. Elle cheered up a bit when she and Harry found a couple bottles of ink that changed color as you wrote. When they had left the shop, Harry said, "Hagrid, what's Quidditch?"

"Blimey, Harry, I keep forgettin' how little yeh know — not knowin' about Quidditch!"

"Do you know what Quidditch is, Elle?" Harry asked.

"Well, I know a bit," said Elle. "I know the basics, but I've never played, or ridden a broom.

"So what _is_ Quidditch?" said Harry.

"It's our sport. Wizard sport. It's like — like soccer in the Muggle world — everyone follows Quidditch — played up in the air on brooms sticks and there's four balls — sorta hard ter explain the rules," said Hagrid

They walked for a little bit longer and Harry told Hagrid about the pale boy they had met in Madam Malkin's.

"— and he said people from Muggle families shouldn't even be allowed in —"

"Yer not _from_ a Muggle family. If he'd know who yeh two were — he's grown up knowin' yer names if his parents are wizardin' folk. You saw what everyone in the Leaky Cauldron was like when they saw yeh. Anyway, what does he know about it, some o' the best I ever saw were the only ones with magic in 'em in a long line o' Muggles — look at yer mum! Look what she had fer a sister!"

"And what are Slytherin and Hufflepuff?"

"School Houses. There's four. Everyone says Hufflepuff are a lot o' duffers. But—"

"I bet I'm in Hufflepuff," said Harry. Elle put a sympathetic hand on his shoulder.

"Don't say that, Harry," she said softly.

"Besides, better Hufflepuff than Slytherin," said Hagrid darkly. "There's not a single witch or wizard who went bad who wasn't in Slytherin. You-Know-Who was one."

"Vol-, sorry — You-Know-Who was at Hogwarts?"

"Years an' years ago," said Hagrid.

They bought Elle's and Harry's school books in a shop called Flourish and Blotts where the shelves were stacked to the ceiling with books as large as paving stones bound in leather; books the size of postage stamps in covers of silk; books full of peculiar symbols and a few books with nothing in them at all. Harry commented that even Dudley would have been wild to get his hands on some. Elle and Hagrid almost had to drag Harry away from _Curses and Countercurses (Bewitch Your Friends and Befuddle Your Enemies with the Latest Revenges: Hair Loss, Jelly—Legs, Tongue—Tying and Much, Much More) _by ProfessLilyLilyor Vindictus Viridian.

"I was trying to find out how to curse, Dudley," said Harry, trying to defend himself. Elle let out a snort of laughter.

"I'm not sayin' that's not a good idea, but yer not ter use magic in the Muggle world except in very special circumstances," said Hagrid. "An' anyway, yeh couldn' work any of them curses yet, yeh'll need a lot more study before yeh get ter that level."

Hagrid wouldn't let them buy a solid gold cauldron, either ("It says pewter on yer list"), but they got a nice set of scales for weighing potion ingredients and a collapsible brass telescope. Then they visited the Apothecary, which was fascinating enough to make up for its horrible smell, a mixture of bad eggs and rotted cabbages. Barrels of slimy stuff stood on the floor; jars of herbs, dried roots, and bright powders lined the walls; bundles of feathers, strings of fangs, and snarled claws hung from the ceiling. While Hagrid asked the man behind the counter for a supply of some basic potion ingredients from them, Elle and Harry examined a silver unicorn horn and minuscule, glittery—black beetle eyes.

Outside the Apothecary, Hagrid checked their list again.

"Just yer wands left — oh yeah, an' I still haven't got yeh two a birthday present."

Harry and Elle both blushed with embarrassment.

"You don't have to —"

"I know I don't have to. Tell yeh what, I'll get yer animal. Not a toad, toads went outta fashion years ago, yeh'd be laughed at — an' I don't like cats, they make me sneeze. I'll get yer an owl. All the kids want owls, they're dead useful, carry yer mail an' everythin'."

Twenty minutes later, they left Eeylops Owl Emporium, which had been dark and full of rustling and flickers, jewel—bright eyes. Harry now carried a large cage that held a beautiful snowy owl, fast asleep with her head under her wing. Elle, however, wasn't carrying a cage — she was carry the same tortoiseshell kitten she had spotted earlier, despite Hagrid trying to persuade her to get an owl.

"Are yeh sure yeh want a cat?" Hagrid said, eyeing the small kitten cautiously. "Owls are much better."

"I'm positive," Elle said with a smile, looking down at the kitten that was laying very contentedly in her arms. "I already have the perfect name — Dubbie."

Hagrid smiled softly and shook his head. "Well, if yer happy, I guess I can't say too much."

"Thank you again, Hagrid," said Harry, looking on at his owl in awe. "I-I love it!"

"Yes, really, thank you," Lily said with smile.

"Don' mention it," said Hagrid gruffly. "Don' expect you've had a lotta presents from them Dursleys, Harry. Just Ollivanders left now — only place fer wands, Ollivanders, and yeh gotta have the best wand."

Harry and Elle looked at each other excitedly. The wand… That's what they've been really looking forward to.

The last shop was narrow and shabby. Peeling gold letters over the door read Ollivanders: Makers of Fine Wands since 382 B.C. A single wand lay on a faded purple cushion in the dusty window.

A tinkling bell rang somewhere in the depths of the shop as they stepped inside. It was a tiny place, empty except for a single, spindly chair that Hagrid sat on to wait. Elle felt like she should be quiet, considering the atmosphere. She and Harry stood side-by-side, examining the thousands of narrow boxes piled neatly right up to the ceiling. The dust and silence in here seemed to tingle with some secret magic.

"Good afternoon," said a soft voice. Harry and Elle both jumped, and Elle tripped over her own feet and fell to the ground. Harry helped her up. A loud crunching noise was heard and Hagrid quickly got off the spindly chair, and Elle guessed Hagrid must've jumped, too.

An old man was standing before them, his wide, pale eyes shining like moons through the gloom of the shop.

"Hello," Harry and Elle both said awkwardly.

"Ah, yes," said the man. "Yes, yes. I thought I'd be see you two soon. Harry Potter and Elle Riddle." It wasn't a question. "You have your mother's eyes, Mr. Potter. It seems only yesterday she was in here herself, buying her first wand. Ten and a quarter inches long, swishy, made of willow. Nice wand for charm work."

Mr. Ollivander moved closer to Harry.

"Your father, on the other hand, favored a mahogany wand. Eleven inches. Pliable. A little more power and excellent for transfiguration. Well, I say your father favored it — it's really the wand that chooses the wizard, of course."

Mr. Ollivander had come so close, that he and Harry were almost nose to nose.

"And that's where . . ."

Mr. Ollivander touched the lightning scar on Harry's forehead with a long, white finger.

"I'm sorry to say I sold the wand that did it," he said softly. "Thirteen-and-a-half inches. Yew. Powerful wand, very powerful, and in the wrong hands . . . Well, if I'd known what that wand was going out into the world to do. . . ."

He shook his and then turned to Elle, smiling.

"Elle Riddle! Let me see. . . . You have your mother's eyes, I can see. She was a wonderful witch. I remember. . . Oak. Ten inches. Unicorn hair. Very nice."

"What about my father?" said Ellie curiously.

"Ah, yes, yes, you're father," Mr. Ollivander muttered, trailing off.

His eyes fell to her left arm and he looked as if he wanted to ask her something, but it seemed as though he decided against it and looked at Hagrid, smiling.

"Rubeus! Rubeus Hagrid! How nice to see you again. . . . Oak, sixteen inches, rather bendy, wasn't it?" said Mr. Ollivander, avoiding Elle's question, much to her disappointment.

"It was, sir, yes," said Hagrid.

"Good wand, that one. But I suppose they snapped it in half when you got expelled?" said Mr. Ollivander, suddenly stern. Harry and Elle were looking at each other, both glad that his focus was now on Hagrid instead of them.

"Er — yes, they did, yes," said Hagrid, shuffling his feet. "I've still got the pieces, though," he added brightly.

"But you don't _use_ them?" said Mr. Ollivander sharply.

"Oh, no, sir," said Hagrid quickly. Elle noticed he gripped his pink umbrella very tightly as he spoke.

"Hmmm," said Mr. Ollivander, giving Hagrid a piercing look. "Well, now — Mr. Potter, you're up first. Let me see." He pulled a long tape measure with silver markings out of his pocket. "Which is your wand arm?"

"Er — well, I'm right-handed," said Harry.

"Hold out your arm. That's it." He measured Harry from shoulder to finger, then wrist to elbow, shoulder to floor, knee to armpit, and round his head. As he measure, he said, "Every Ollivander wand has a core of a powerful magical substance, Mr. Potter. We use unicorn hairs, phoenix tail feathers, and the heartstrings of dragons. No Ollivander wands are the same, just as no two unicorns, dragons, or phoenixes are quite the same. And of course, you will never get such good results with another wizard's wand."

Elle realized that the tape measure, which was measuring between Harry's nostrils, was doing this on its own. Mr. Ollivander was flitting around the shelves, taking down boxes.

"That will do," he said, and the tape measure crumpled into a heap on the floor. "Right then, Mr. Potter. Try this one. Beechwood and dragon heartstring. Nine inches. Nice and flexible. Just take it and give it a wave."

Harry took the wand and waved it around a bit, but Mr. Ollivander snatched it out of his hand almost at once.

"Maple and phoenix feather. Seven inches. Quite whippy. Try —"

Harry tried — but he had hardly raised the wand when it, too, was snatched back by Mr. Ollivander.

"No, no — here, ebony and unicorn hair, eight and a half inches, springy. Go on, go on, try it out."

Harry tried and tried, but nothing happened. Eventually Elle grew bored and began to examine the shop more closely until she heard Mr. Ollivander say, "Tricky customer, eh? Not to worry, we'll find the perfect match here somewhere — I wonder, now — yes, why not — unusual combination — holly and phoenix feather, eleven inches, nice and supple."

Harry took the wand. He raised the wand above his head, brought it swishing down though the dusty air and a stream of red and gold sparks shot from the end like a firework, throwing dancing spots of lights on to the walls. Hagrid whooped and clapped and Mr. Ollivander cried, "Oh, bravo! Yes, indeed, oh very good. Well, well, well . . . How curious . . . How very curious . . ."

He put Harry's wand back into its box and wrapped it in brown paper, still muttering, "Curious . . . Curious . . ."

"Sorry," said Harry, "but _what's _curious?"

Mr. Ollivander fixed Harry with his pale stare.

"I remember every wand I've ever sold, Mr. Potter. Every single wand. It so happens that the phoenix whose tail feather is in your wand, gave another feather — just one other. It is very curious indeed that you should be destined for this wand when its brother — why, its brother gave you that scar."

"Yes, thirteen-and-a-half inches. Yew. Curious indeed how these things happen. The wand chooses the wizard, remember. . . . I think we must expect great things from you, Mr. Potter. . . . After all, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named did great things — terrible, yes, but great."

Mr. Ollivander held Harry's gaze for a moment before turning to Elle, smiling softly.

"Now! Time for you!" he pulled out a wand and handed it to her. "Hickory, twelve inches, dragon heartstring. Very durable. Give it a go."

Elle took it and gave it a swish. The glass sitting on the counter suddenly shattered and the water inside sprayed everyone. Mr. Ollivander took it from her and placed it back in its box.

"That's a no," he muttered, pulling out another wand and giving it to her. "Chestnut, unicorn hair, ten inches. Rather bendy. Go on, give it a swish."

Elle did as she was told and its box burst into flames. Mr. Ollivander threw it to the ground and stomped out the flames. Elle placed the wand carefully onto the counter, trying to make sure she wouldn't set the entire place on fire. Harry was sitting there wide eyed.

"Okay, how about this?" Mr. Ollivander handed her yet another wand. "This is oak, unicorn hair, eight inches."

Elle waved the wand and there was a loud crack as a ladder resting on the wall (Elle guessed it was used to grab wands higher up on the shelf) burst and it began raining splinters of wood everywhere.

"Ah, no," Ollivander said, snatching it out of her hands. He then gave her yet another wand. "Okay. . . . This is holly, dragon heartstrings, eleven inches."

As Elle raised the wand, Ollivander ducked behind the counter, and it was a good thing. She swished the wand and the framed picture of the store hanging on the wall behind Ollivander shattered, and the picture fluttered to the ground. Ollivander stood and took the wand from her.

"Nope, no, most definitely not," he muttered. He pulled out a wand and gave it to her. "Okay, try this one. This has to be it. Phoenix feather, oak, thirteen inches."

Elle swished the wand through the air and the book resting on the counter exploded. Very quickly, Ollivander took the wand from her and he began thinking. Then, as if a light bulb went off in his head, he glanced up at Elle, eyes wide.

"I'll be back!" he muttered, disappearing into the back room.

"I wonder what that was about," mused Harry.

Elle only shrugged and Mr. Ollivander returned, carrying a box.

"This," he started, "this is a wand, almost exactly like the wand owned by He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. The only difference is the phoenix feather inside. It belongs to a different phoenix." He handed it to Elle.

Elle felt a warmth spread through out her body and to her finger tips. She flicked the wand and silver sparks shot out, creating a beautiful display. Mr. Ollivander's eyes widened as he watched this.

"I . . . I swore I would never sell that wand. Not after He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named did what he did. I was too afraid that the wand would once again create trouble. Yew, thirteen-and-a-half inches, phoenix feather. . . . A powerful combination. . . . I hope you will not follow in his footsteps."

"Why would I follow in his footsteps?" Elle asked.

Mr. Ollivander looked at Hagrid, as if he was shocked.

"Was she not informed that he—"

"Don' yeh dare speak o' it," spat Hagrid, shushing Mr. Ollivander, who obeyed. "Dumbledore didn't want ter tell her, so we won't tell her. Yeh understand?"

"Oh, Dumbledore doesn't want to inform her?" Mr. Ollivander asked. Hagrid nodded gruffly. "I'm sorry. I wasn't aware that those were his wishes."

"Well, now that yeh know, no speakin' o' it."

They paid for their wands and left, and Elle couldn't help but wonder what it was that Ollivander wanted to tell her. She wished Hagrid hadn't forbidden him from doing so.

The late afternoon sun hung low in the sky as they made their way back down Diagon Alley, back through the wall, back through the Leaky Cauldron, now empty. Elle and Harry didn't speak at all as they walked down the road; she didn't even notice how much people were gawking at them on the Underground, laden as they were with all their funny-shaped packages, with the small tortoiseshell kitten on her lap. Up another escalator, out into Paddington station; Elle only realized where they were when Hagrid tapped her on the shoulder.

"Got time fer a bite before yer train leaves," he said.

He bought Elle and Harry a hamburger and they sat down on plastic seats to eat them. Harry kept looking around, and Elle just looked down at her plate.

"You two all right? Yer very quiet," said Hagrid.

"Everyone thinks we're special," Harry finally said. "All those people in the Leaky Cauldron, Professor Quirrell, Mr. Ollivander . . . but I don't know anything about magic at all. How can they expect great things? I'm famous and I can't even remember what I'm famous for. I don't know what happened when Vol-, sorry — I mean, the night my parents died."

Hagrid leaned across the table. Behind the wild beard and wild eyebrows, he wore a very kind smile.

"Don' you worry, Harry. You and Elle will learn fast enough. Everyone starts at the beginning at Hogwarts, you'll be just fine. Just be yerself. I know it's hard. Yeh've been singled out, an' that's always hard. But yeh'll have a great time at Hogwarts — I did — still do, 'smatter of fact."

Hagrid helped Harry and Elle on to the train that would take them back to the Dursleys and Chadwicks, then handed them each an envelope.

"Yer ticket fer Hogwarts," he said. "First o' September — King's Cross — it's all on yer ticket. Any problems with the Dursleys, Harry, send me a letter with yer owl, she'll know where to find me. . . . See yeh soon."

Harry sighed and plopped down in his seat and looked at Elle.

"So. . . . Were you aware of all . . . this?" he asked, motioning to all his wizarding supplies. Elle chuckled.

"Yeah, I was."

"And you knew I was a . . . wizard?"

"Yes."

"So why didn't you tell me?"

"I wasn't allowed to! Trust me, if I could've had it my way, I would've told you years ago! But Mr. Chadwick kept telling me I wasn't suppose to. He said you'd find out soon enough."

"Oh, I see," Harry said, settling down some.

The train pulled out of the station. Harry and Elle wanted to watch Hagrid until he was out of sight their rose in their seat and pressed their noses against the window, but they blinked and Hagrid was gone.


	8. Chapter Seven

Secret Relations

Chapter Seven

A month later, Elle was lugging her stuff out of the house and towards the Dursleys, Dubbie sleeping peacefully in her crate. She was traveling with them to King's Cross because Mr. and Mrs. Chadwick had to go to work early, and therefore she had to ride with them. Mr. Dursley was highly frustrated at that — once he found out Elle was a witch, he and Mrs. Dursley came to the startling realization that Elle's parents were also magical folk, and quickly dropped all friendliness towards them. So, when Elle's father approached Mr. Dursley about taking Elle to King's Cross station, Mr. Dursley protested whole-heartedly, but after Mr. Chadwick promised to bring Harry home at the end of term, Mr. Dursley resentfully agreed.

They reached King's Cross at half past ten. Mr. Dursley dumped their trunks onto different carts and wheeled them into the station for them. Mr. Dursley seemed abnormally pleasant, but Elle decided not to bother mentioning it, but she thought it was strangely kind until Mr. Dursley stopped dead, facing the platforms with a nasty grin on his face.

"Well, there you are. Platform nine — platform ten. Your platform should be somewhere in the middle, but they don't seem to have built it yet, do they?"

He was quite right, of course. There was a big plastic number nine over one platform and a big plastic number ten over the one next to it, and in the middle, nothing at all.

"Have a good term," sneered Mr. Dursley before walking off without another word.

Elle, trying to find out just where in the world they were suppose to go, stopped a passing guard, but didn't dare mention platform nine and three-quarters. The guard had never heard of Hogwarts and when they couldn't even tell him what part of the country it was in, he started to get annoyed, as if they were trying to be stupid on purpose. Getting desperate, they asked for the train that left at eleven o'clock, but the guard said there wasn't one. In the end the guard strode away, muttering about time wasters. They were now trying hard not to panic. According to the large clock over the arrivals board, they had ten minutes left to get on the train to Hogwarts and they had no idea how to do it; they were stranded in the middle of a station with trunks they could hardly lift, a pocket full of wizard money, and two owls.

Hagrid must have forgotten to tell them something you had to do, like tapping the third brick on the left to get into Diagon Alley. They wondered if they should get out their wands and start tapping the ticket inspector's stand between platforms nine and ten.

At that moment a group of people passed just behind them and they caught a few words of what they were saying.

"— packed with Muggles, of course —"

Harry looked at Elle excitedly. "Did you hear that?"

"I sure did!" she said happily, turning around.

The speaker was a plump woman who was talking to four boys, all with flaming red hair. Each of them was pushing a trunk like Harry and Elle's in front of him — and they had an owl.

Hearts hammering, Elle and Harry pushed their carts after them. They stopped and so did they, just near enough to hear what they were saying.

"Now, what's the platform number?" said the boys' mother.

"Nine and three-quarters!" piped a small girl, also red-headed, who was holding her hand. "Mum, can't I go . . ."

"You're not old enough, Ginny, now be quiet. All right, Percy, you go first.

What looked like the oldest boy marched platforms nine and ten. Elle watched, careful not to blink in case she missed it — but just as the boy reached the dividing barrier between the two platforms, a large crowd of tourist came swarming in front of them and by the time the last back pack had cleared away, the boy had vanished.

"Fred, you next," said the plump woman.

"I'm not Fred, I'm George," said the boy. "Honestly, woman, you call yourself our mother? Can't you _tell _I'm George?"

"Sorry, George, dear."

"Only joking, I am Fred." said the boy, and off he went. His twin called after him to hurry up, and he must have done so, because a second later, he had gone — but how had he done it?

Now the third brother was walking briskly toward the barrier — he was almost there — and then, quite suddenly, he wasn't anywhere.

There was nothing else for it.

"Excuse me," Harry said to the plump woman.

"Hello, dear," she said. "First time at Hogwarts? Ron's new, too."

She pointed at the youngest of her sons. He was tall, thin, and gangling, with freckles, big hands and feet, and a long nose.

"Yes, we both are," said Harry, motioning to Elle, who waved awkwardly. "The thing is — the thing is, I don't know how to —"

"How to get onto the platform?" she said kindly, and Harry nodded.

"Not to worry," she said. "All you have to do is walk straight at the barrier between platforms nine and ten. Don't stop and don't be scared you'll crash into it, that's very important. Best do it at a bit of a run if you're nervous. Go on, go now before Ron."

"Er — okay," said Harry.

He and Elle went together, and they walked more quickly. They were going to smash right into that barrier and then they'd be in trouble — leaning forward on their carts, they broke into a heavy run — the barrier was coming nearer and nearer — they wouldn't be able to stop — the cart was out of control — they were a foot away — they closed their eyes ready to crash —

It didn't come . . . they kept running . . . they opened their eyes.

A scarlet steam engine was waiting next to a platform packed with people. A sign over head said Hogwarts Express, eleven o'clock. Elle looked behind them and saw a wrought-iron archway where the barrier had been, with the words _Platform Nine and Three-Quarters_ on it. They had done it.

Smoke from the engine drifted over the heads of the chattering crowd, while cats of every color wound here and there between their legs. Owls hooted to one another in a disgruntle sort of way over the babble and scraping of heavy trunks.

The first few carriages were already packed with students, some hanging out of the window to talk to their families, some fighting over seats. Elle and Harry pushed their carts off down the platform in search of an empty seat. They passed a round-faced boy who was saying, "Gran, I've lost my toad again."

"Oh, _Neville_," she heard the old woman sigh.

A boy with dreadlocks was surrounded by a small crowd.

"Give us a look, Lee, go on."

The boy lifted the lid of a box in his arms, and the people around him shrieked and yelled as something inside poked out a long, hairy leg.

Elle and Harry pressed on through the crowd until they found an empty compartment near the end of the train. They put Dubbie and Hedwig inside first and then started to shove and heave their trunks toward the train door. They tried to lift them up the steps but could hardly raise one end and twice Harry dropped his on his foot.

"Want a hand?" It was one of the red-haired twins they'd followed through the barrier.

"Yes, please," Elle panted.

"Oy, Fred! C'mere and help!"

With the twins' help, Harry and Elle's trunks were at last tucked away in a corner of the compartment.

"Thanks," said Harry, pushing his sweaty hair out of his eyes.

"Yeah," breathed Elle, rolling up her sleeves some. "We'd still be working on getting them halfway up the stairs."

"What's that?" said the twins in unison. One was pointing to Harry's lightning scar.

"Blimey," said one twin. "Are you — ?"

"They _are_," said the other twin. "Aren't you?" he added to Harry and Elle.

"What?" said Elle and Harry together.

"_Harry Potter and Eleanor Riddle," _chorused the twins.

"Oh, them," said Harry.

"Yeah, we are," added Elle.

The two boys gawked at them, and Elle felt herself turning red. Then, to her relief, a voice came floating in through the train's open door.

"Fred? George? Are you there?"

"Coming, Mum."

With a last look at Elle and Harry, the twins hopped off the train.

Harry sat down next to the window, Elle sitting beside them, and the two of them were half hidden where they sat. They were poised perfectly so they could watch the red-haired family on the platform and hear what they were saying. Their mother had just taken out her handkerchief.

"Ron, you've got something on your nose."

The youngest boy tried to jerk out of the way, but she grabbed him and began rubbing the end of his nose.

"Mum — geroff." He wriggled free.

"Aaah, has ickle Ronnie got somefink on his nosie?" said one of the twins.

"Shut up," said Ron.

"Where's Percy?" said their mother.

"He's coming now."

The oldest boy came striding into sight. He had already changed into his billowing black Hogwarts robes, and Elle noticed a shiny red-and-gold badge on his chest with the letter P on it.

"Can't stay long, Mother," he said. "I'm up front, the prefects have got two compartments to themselves —"

"Oh, are you a prefect, Percy?" said one of the twins, with an air of great surprise. "You should have said something, we had no idea."

"Hang on, I think I remember him saying something about it," said the other twin. "Once —"

"Or twice —"

"A minute —"

"All summer —"

"Oh, shut up," said Percy the Prefect.

"How come Percy gets new robes, anyway?" said one of the twins.

"Because he's a prefect," said their mother fondly. "All right, dear, well, have a good term — send me an owl when you get there."

She kissed Percy on the cheek and he left. Then she turned to the twins.

"Now, you two — this year, you behave yourselves. If I get one more owl telling me you've — you've blown up a toilet or —"

"Blown up a toilet? We've never blown up a toilet."

"Great idea though, thanks, Mum."

"It's not funny. And look after Ron."

"Don't worry, ickle Ronniekins is safe with us."

"Shut up," said Ron again. He was almost as tall as the twins already and his nose was still pink where his mother had rubbed it.

"Hey, Mum, guess what? Guess who we just met on the train?"

Harry leaned back quickly, pushing Elle back into the seat with him so they couldn't see them looking.

"You know that black-haired boy, and the girl with the braid who was near us in the station? Know who they are?"

"Who?"

"Harry Potter and Eleanor Riddle!"

Elle heard the little girl's voice.

"Oh, Mum, can I go on the train and see them, Mum, oh please. . . ."

"You've already seen them, Ginny, and those poor children aren't something you goggle at in a zoo. Are they really, Fred? How do you know?"

"Asked them. Saw his scar. It's really there — like lightning. And she looks just like her mum."

"Poor dears — no wonder they were alone, I wondered. They were ever so polite when they asked how to get onto the platform."

"Never mind that, do you think Harry remembers what You-Know-Who looks like?"

Their mother suddenly became very stern.

"I forbid you to ask him, Fred. No, don't you dare. As though he needs reminding of that on his first day at school."

"All right, keep your hair on."

A whistle sounded.

"Hurry up!" their mother said, and the three boys clambered onto the train. They leaned out of the window for her to kiss them good-bye, and their younger sister began to cry.

"Don't, Ginny, we'll send you loads of owls."

"We'll send you a Hogwarts toilet seat."

"George!"

"Only joking, Mum."

The train began to move. Elle saw the boys' mother waving and their sister, half laughing, half crying, running to keep up with the train until it gathered too much speed, then she fell back and waved.

Elle watched the girl and her mother disappear as the train rounded the corner. Houses flashed past the window. Elle felt a great leap of excitement. She didn't know what she was going to — but it had to be better than what she was leaving behind.

The door of the compartment slid open and the youngest redheaded boy came in.

"Anyone sitting there?" he asked, pointing at the seat opposite of Harry. "Everywhere else is full."

"Nope, it's open," smiled Elle.

The boy sat down. He glanced at Harry and Elle and then looked quickly out the window, pretending he hadn't looked.

"Hey, Ron."

The twins were back.

"Listen, were going down the middle of the train — Lee Jordan's got a giant tarantula down there."

"Right," mumbled Ron.

"Harry, Eleanor," said the other twin, "did we introduce ourselves? Fred and George Weasley. And this is Ron, our brother. See you later then."

"Bye," said Harry and Elle. The twins slid the compartment door shut behind them.

"Are you really Harry Potter and Eleanor Riddle?" Ron blurted out.

They nodded.

"But I prefer Elle, if you don't mind," said Elle. "My adopted mum only calls me Eleanor when I'm in trouble."

"Oh — well, I thought it might be one of Fred and George's jokes," said Ron. "And have you really got — you know . . ."

He pointed to Harry's forehead.

Harry pulled back his bangs to show the lightning scar.

"So that's where You-Know-Who —?"

"Yes," said Harry. "But I don't remember it."

"Nothing?" Ron said eagerly.

"Well — I remember a lot of green light, but nothing else," Harry explained.

"Wow," said Ron. He sat and stared at them for a few moments, then, as though he had suddenly realized what he was doing, he looked quickly out the window again.

"Are all your family wizards?" asked Elle.

"Er — yes, I think so," said Ron. "I think Mum's got a second cousin who's an accountant, but we never talk about him."

"So you must know loads of magic already," sighed Harry.

"I heard you went to live with Muggles," said Ron, directing this towards Harry. "What are they like?"

"Horrible — well, not all of them. My aunt and uncle and cousin are, though. Wish I'd had three wizard brothers."

"Five," said Ron, looking gloomy. "I'm the sixth in our family to go to Hogwarts. You could say I've got a lot to live up to. Bill and Charlie have already left — Bill was head boy and Charlie was captain of Quidditch. Now Percy's a prefect. Fred and George mess around a lot, but they still get really good marks and everyone thinks they're really funny. Everyone expects me to do as well as the others, but if I do, it's no big deal, because they did it first. You never get anything new, either, with five brothers. I've got Bill's old robes, Charlie's old wand, and Percy's old rat."

Ron reached inside his jacket and pulled out a fat gray rat, which was fast asleep.

"His name's Scabbers and he's useless, he hardly ever wakes up. Percy got an owl from my dad from being made prefect, but they couldn't aff — I mean, I got Scabbers instead."

Ron's ears when pink, as if he thought he'd said too much.

Harry began telling Ron about having to wear Dudley's old clothes and never getting proper gifts from anyone but Elle and the Chadwicks. It seemed after that, Ron had cheered up.

". . . and until Hagrid told me, I didn't know anything about being a wizard or about my parents or Voldemort —"

Ron gasped.

"What?" said Harry and Elle in unison.

"_You said You-Know-Who's name!" _said Ron, sounding shocked and impressed. "I'd have thought you, of all people —"

"I'm not trying to be brave or anything, saying the name," said Harry, "I just never knew you shouldn't. See what I mean? I've got loads to learn. . . . I bet," he added, "I bet I'm the worst in the class."

"I'll be right there with you, Harry," Elle said, sighing heavily — her parents had never shown her much magic, always telling her that she needed to wait, and that her time would come when she went to Hogwarts. Now, of course, she was worried that she'd be the worst witch in her year.

"You won't be. There are loads of people who come from Muggle families and they learn quick enough."

While they had been talking, the train had carried them out of London. Now they were speeding past fields full of cows and sheep. They were quiet for a time, watching the fields and lanes flick past.

Around half past twelve there was a great clattering outside in the corridor and a smiling, dimpled woman slid back their door and said, "Anything from the carts, dears?"

Harry and Elle, who hadn't had any breakfast, leapt to their feet, but Ron's ears went pink again and he muttered that he'd brought sandwiches. Harry and Elle went out into the corridor.

The woman had tons of cool wizard candy: Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans, Drooble's Best Blowing Gum, Chocolate Frogs, Pumpkin Pasties, Caulddron Cakes, Licorice Wands, and a number of other things. Elle and Harry made sure to buy some of everything before they paid.

Ron started at them as they brought it all back into the compartment and tipped it onto an empty seat.

"Hungry, are you?"

"Starving," they replied, and Elle took a large bite out of a pumpkin pasty, her favorite.

Ron had taken out a lumpy package and unwrapped it. There were four sandwiches inside. He pulled one of them apart and said, "She always forgets I don't like corned beef."

"Swap you for one of these," said Elle, holding up a pasty. "Go on —"

"You don't want this, it's all dry," said Ron. "She hasn't got much time," he added quickly, "you know, with five of us."

"Go on, have a pasty," said Elle and Ron took one.

The three of them sat there, sharing food, and Elle could see that Harry was really enjoying himself. It was a nice feeling, sitting there with Ron, eating their way though all of Elle and Harry's pasties, cakes, and candies (the sandwiches lay forgotten).

"What are these?" Harry asked Ron and Elle, holding up a pack of Chocolate Frogs. "They're not _really_ frogs, are they?"

"No, it's just a charm," Elle said with a laugh as she opened her own pack of Chocolate Frogs, quickly grabbing it and eating the frog before it could hop away.

"But the frog isn't important; it's the card you should care about," said Ron. "See what the card is. I'm missing Agrippa."

"What?" said Harry.

"Oh, of course, you wouldn't know — Chocolate Frogs have cards inside them, you know, to collect — famous witches and wizards. I've got about five hundred, but I haven't got Agrippa or Ptolemy."

Harry unwrapped his Chocolate From and picked up the card. It showed the man's face. He wore half-moon glasses, had a long, crooked nose, and flowing silver hair, beard, and mustache. Underneath the picture was the name Albus Dumbledore.

"So this is Dumbledore!" said Harry.

"Don't tell me you'd never heard of Dumbledore!" said Ron. "Can I have a from? I might get Agrippa — thanks —"

Harry turned over his card, and Elle peered over her shoulder, reading along with him:

ALBUS DUMBLEDORE

CURRENTLY HEADMASTER OF HOGWARTS

Configured by many the greatest wizard of modern times, Dumbledore is particularly famous for his defeat of the Dark wizard Grindelwald in 1945, for the discovery of the twelve uses of dragon's blood, and his work on alchemy with his partner, Nicolas Flamel. Professor Dumbledore enjoys chamber music and tenpin bowling.

Harry turned the card back over and saw, to his astonishment, that Dumbledore's face had disappeared.

"He's gone!"

"Well, you can't expect him to hand around all day," said Ron. "He'll be back. No, I've got Morgana again and I've got about six of her . . . do you want it? You can start collecting."

Ron's eyes strayed to the pile of Chocolate Frogs waiting to be unwrapped.

"Help yourself," said Elle with a chuckle.

"You know, in the Muggle world, people just stay put in photos," said Harry.

"Do they? What, they don't move at all?" Ron sounded amazed. _"Weird!"_

The three friends continued unwrapping the Chocolate Frogs, and while Ron and Elle were both far more interested in eating the small frogs that looks at the Famous Witches and Wizards card, Harry couldn't keep his eyes off them. He had soon collected not only Dumbledore and organa, but Hengismt of Woodcraft, Albert Grunnion, Circe, Paracelsus, and Merlin. Harry finally tore his eyes away from the druids Cliodna, who was scratching her nose, to open a bag of Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans.

"You want to be careful with those," Ron warned Harry. "When they say every flavor, they mean every flavor — you know, you get all the ordinary ones like chocolate and peppermint and marmalade, but then you can get spinach and liver and tripe. George reckons he had a booger-flavored one once."

Ron picked up a green bean, looked at it carefully, and bit into a corner.

"Bleaaargh — see? Sprouts."

They had a good time eating the Every Flavor Beans. Harry got toast, coconut, baked bean, strawberry, curry, grass, coffee, sardine, and was even brave enough to nibble the end off a funny gray one Ron wouldn't touch, which turned out to be pepper. Elle got a few good flavors — pineapple, banana, roasted chicken, blackberry, toothpaste, and, most unfortunately, rotten egg.

The countryside now flying past the window was becoming wilder. The neat fields had gone. Now there were woods, twisting rivers, and dark green hills.

There was a knock on the door of their compartment and the round-faced boy Harry had passed on platform nine and three-quarters came in. He looked tearful.

"Sorry," he said, "but have you seen a toad at all?"

When they shook their heads, he wailed, "I've lost him! He keeps getting away from me!"

"He'll turn up," said Elle.

"Yes," said the boy miserably. "Well, if you see him . . ."

He left.

"Don't know why he's so bothered," said Ron. "If I'd brought a toad I'd lose it as quick as I could. Mind you, I brought Scabbers, so I can't talk."

The rat was still snoozing on Ron's lap.

"He might have died and you wouldn't know the difference," said Ron in disgust. "I tried to turn him yellow yesterday to make him more interesting, but the spell didn't work. I'll show you, look . . ."

He rummaged around in his trunk and pulled out a very battered-looking wand. It was chipped in places and something white was glinting at the end.

"Unicorn hair's nearly poking out. Anyway —"

He had just raised his wand when the compartment door slid open again. The toadless boy was back, but this time he had a girl with him. She was already wearing her new Hogwarts robes.

"Has anyone seen a toad? Neville's lost one," she said. She had a bossy sort of voice, lots of bushy brown hair, and rather large front teeth.

"We've already told him we haven't seen it," said Ron, but the girl wasn't listening, she was looking at the wand in his hand.

"Oh, are you doing magic? Let's see it, then."

She sat down. Ron looked taken aback.

"Er — all right."

He cleared his throat.

_"Sunshine, daisies, butter mellow,_

_ Turn this stupid, fat rat yellow."_

He waved his wand, but nothing happened. Scabbers stayed gray and fast asleep.

"Are you sure that's a real spell?" said the girl. "Well, it's not very good, is it? I've tried a few simple spells just for practice and it's all worked for me. Nobody in my family's magic at all, it was ever such a surprise when I got my letter, but I was ever so pleased, of course, I mean, it's the very best school of witchcraft there is, I've heard — I've learned all our course books by heart, of course, I just hope it will be enough — I'm Hermione Granger, by the way, who are you?"

She said all this very fast.

Harry and Elle exchanged glances before looking at Ron, and were relieved to see by his stunned face that he hadn't learned all the course books by heart either.

"I'm Ron Weasley," Ron muttered.

"Harry Potter," said Harry.

"And I'm Elle Riddle," said Elle.

"Are you really Harry Potter?" said Hermione. "I know all about you, of course — I got a few extra books for background reading, and you're in_ Modern Magical History and The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts and Great Wizarding Events of the Twentieth Century_."

"Am I?" said Harry, feeling dazed.

"Goodness, didn't you know, I'd have found out everything I could if it was me," said Hermione. She then looked over at Elle, giving her a curious look. "And you said you were Elle Riddle? Isn't your full name Eleanor?"

Elle eyes widened slightly. "Er — well, y-yeah, but I prefer Elle."

"I see — I read about your mother is also in _Modern Magical History and The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts and Great Wizarding Events of the Twentieth Century, _and you're mentioned there," said Hermione.

Elle was a bit surprised — why was her mother in that book?

Hermione then looked back to Ron and Harry and continued speaking very quickly. "Do any of you know what House you'll be in? I've been asking around, and I hope I'm in Gryffindor, it sounds by far the best; I hear Dumbledore himself was in it, but I suppose Ravenclaw wouldn't be too bad. . . . Anyway, we'd better go and look for Neville's toad. You three had better change, you know, I expect we'll be there soon."

And she left, taking the toadless boy with her.

"Whatever House I'm in, I hope she's not in it," said Ron. He threw his wand back into his trunk. "Stupid spell — George gave it to me, bet he knew it was a dud."

"What House are your brothers in?" asked Harry.

"Gryffindor," said Ron. Gloom seemed to be settling on him again. "Mum and Dad were in it, too. I don't know what they'll say if I'm not. I don't suppose Ravenclaw _would_ be too bad, but imagine if they put me in Slytherin."

"That's the House Vol-, I mean, You-Know-Who was in?"

"Yeah," said Ron. He flopped back into his seat, looking depressed.

"You know, I think the ends of Scabbers' whiskers are a bit lighter," said Elle, trying to take Ron's mind off Houses.

"So what do your oldest brothers do now that they've left, anyway?" said Harry.

"Charlie's in Romania studying dragons, and Bill's in Africa doing something for Gringotts," said Ron. "Did you hear about Gringotts? It's been all over the _Daily Prophet_, but I don't suppose you get that with the Muggles — someone tried to rob a high security vault."

Harry stared.

"Really? What happened to them?"

"Nothing, that's why it's such big news. They haven't been caught. My dad says it must've been a powerful Dark wizard to get round Gringotts, but they don't think they took anything, that's what's odd. 'Course, everyone gets scared when something like this happens in case You-Know-Who's behind it."

Elle turned this news over in her mind. She was starting to get a prickle of fear every time You-Know-Who was mentioned. She supposed this was all part of entering the magical world, but it had been a lot more comfortable saying "Voldemort" without worrying.

"What's your Quidditch team?" Ron asked.

"Er — I don't know any," Harry confessed.

"Me either," said Elle sheepishly.

"What!" Ron looked dumbfounded. "Oh, you wait, it's the best game in the world —" And he was off, explaining all about the four balls and the positions of the seven players, describing famous games he'd been to with his brothers and the broomstick he'd like to get if he had the money. He was just taking Harry and Elle through the finer points of the game when the compartment door slid open yet again, but it wasn't Neville the toadless boy, or Hermione Granger this time.

Three boys entered, and Elle and Harry both recognized the middle one at once: It was the pale boy from Madam Malkin's robe shop. He was looking at Harry and Elle with a lot more interest than he'd shown back in Diagon Alley.

"Is it true?" he said. "They're saying all down the train that Harry Potter and Eleanor Riddle's in this compartment. So it's you two, is it?"

"Yes," said Harry.

"That's us," said Elle, growing very tired of this — she could understand why Harry was famous, but why was she famous just because of her mother?

She was looking at the other boys. Both of them were thickset and looked extremely mean. Standing on either side of the pale boy, they looked like bodyguards.

"Oh, this is Crabbe and this is Goyle," said the pale boy carelessly, noticing where Elle was looking. "And my name's Malfoy, Draco Malfoy."

Ron gave a slight cough, which might have been hiding a snigger. Draco Malfoy looked at him.

"Think my name's funny, do you? No need to ask who you are. My father told me all the Weasleys have red hair, freckles, and more children than they can afford."

He turned back to Harry and Elle. "You'll soon find out some wizarding families are much better than others, Potter. You don't want to go making friends with the wrong sort. I can help you there."

He held out his hand to shake Harry's, but Harry didn't take it.

"I think I can tell who the wrong sort are for myself, thanks," he said coolly.

Draco Malfoy didn't go red, but a pink tinge appeared in his pale cheeks. He then looked to Elle, who had been hoping he would simply forget her presence.

"What about you, Riddle?" said Malfoy, smiling ever so slightly. "Are you smarter than Potter here?"

Elle crossed her arms over her chest, rolling her eyes slightly.

"I think I've made friend with the right sort, thank you," she said stiffly.

This time Malfoy did go red, and he narrowed his eyes at Elle and Harry.

"I'd be careful if I were you two," he said slowly. "Unless you're a bit politer you'll go the same way as your parents. They didn't know what was good for them, either. You hang around with riffraff like the Weasleys and that Hagrid, and it'll rub off on you."

Immediately, Elle, Harry, and Ron stood up.

"Say that again," Ron said, his face as red as his hair.

"I dare you," Elle said, her eyes narrowed at Malfoy and his goons.

"Oh, you're going to fight us, are you?" Malfoy sneered.

"Unless you get out now," said Harry.

"But we don't feel like leaving, do we, boys? We've eaten all our food and you still seem to have some."

Goyle reached toward the Chocolate Frogs next to Ron — Ron leapt forward, but before he'd so much as touched Goyle, Goyle let out a horrible yell.

Scabbers the rat was hanging off his finger, sharp little teeth sunk deep into Goyle's knuckle — Crabbe and Malfoy backed away as Goyle swung Scabbers round and round, howling, and when Scabbers finally flew off and hit the window, all three of them disappeared at once. Perhaps they thought there were more rats lurking among the sweets, or perhaps they'd heard footsteps, because a second later, Hermione Granger had come in.

"What _has_ been going on?" she said, looking at the sweets all over the floor and Ron picking up Scabbers by his tail.

"I think he's been knocked out," Ron said to Harry and Elle. He looked closer at Scabbers. "No — I don't believe it — he's gone back to sleep."

And so he had.

"You've met Malfoy before?"

Harry and Elle explained about their meeting in Diagon Alley.

"I've heard of his family," said Ron darkly. "They were some of the first to come back to our side after You-Know-Who disappeared. Said they'd been bewitched. My dad doesn't believe it. He says Malfoy's father didn't need an excuse to go over to the Dark Side." He turned to Hermione. "Can we help you with something?"

"You'd better hurry up and put your robes on, I've just been up to the front to ask the conductor, and he says we're nearly there. You haven't been fighting, have you? You'll be in trouble before we even get there!"

"Scabbers has been fighting, not us," said Ron, scowling at her. "Would you mind leaving while we change?"

"All right — I only came in here because people outside are behaving very childishly, racing up and down the corridors," said Hermione in a sniffy voice. "And you've got dirt on your nose, by the way, did you know?"

Ron glared at her as she left. Elle peered out of the window. It was getting dark. He could see mountains and forests under a deep purple sky. The train did seem to be slowing down.

He and Ron took off their jackets and pulled on their long black robes. Ron's were a bit short for him, you could see his sneakers underneath them. Elle then had them leave so she could change into her uniform, and once she had finished, she allowed the two boys to come back in.

A voice echoed through the train: "We will be reaching Hogwarts in five minutes' time. Please leave your luggage on the train, it will be taken to the school separately."

Elle's stomach lurched with nerves and Ron, she saw, looked pale under his freckles. Harry also appeared just as nervous, and he looked at Elle with a small, sheepish smile. Elle gave his hand a comforting squeeze, and then the three of them crammed their pockets with the last of the sweets and joined the crowd thronging the corridor.

The train slowed right down and finally stopped. People pushed their way toward the door and out on to a tiny, dark platform. Elle shivered in the cold night air. Then a lamp came bobbing over the heads of the students, and Elle heard a familiar voice: "Firs' years! Firs' years over here! All right there, Harry and Elle?"

Hagrid's big hairy face beamed over the sea of heads.

"C'mon, follow me — any more firs' years? Mind yer step, now! Firs' years follow me!"

Slipping and stumbling, they followed Hagrid down what seemed to be a steep, narrow path. It was so dark on either side of them that Elle thought there must be thick trees there. Nobody spoke much. Neville, the boy who kept losing his toad, sniffed once or twice.

"Yeh'll get yer firs' sight o' Hogwarts in a sec," Hagrid called over his shoulder, "jus' round this bend here."

There was a loud "Oooooh!"

The narrow path had opened suddenly onto the edge of a great black lake. Perched atop a high mountain on the other side, its windows sparkling in the starry sky, was a vast castle with many turrets and towers.

"No more'n four to a boat!" Hagrid called, pointing to a fleet of little boats sitting in the water by the shore. Elle, Harry, and Ron were followed into their boat by Hermione.

"Everyone in?" shouted Hagrid, who had a boat to himself. "Right then — FORWARD!"

And the fleet of little boats moved off all at once, gliding across the lake, which was as smooth as glass. Everyone was silent, staring up at the great castle overhead. It towered over them as they sailed nearer and nearer to the cliff on which it stood.

"Heads down!" yelled Hagrid as the first boats reached the cliff; they all bent their heads and the little boats carried them through a curtain of ivy that hid a wide opening in the cliff face. They were carried along a dark tunnel, which seemed to be taking them right underneath the castle, until they reached a kind of underground harbor, where they clambered out onto rocks and pebbles.

"Oy, you there! Is this your toad?" said Hagrid, who was checking the boats as people climbed out of them.

"Trevor!" cried Neville blissfully, holding out his hands. Then they clambered up a passageway in the rock after Hagrid's lamp, coming out at last onto smooth, damp grass right in the shadow of the castle.

They walked up a flight of stone steps and crowded around the huge, oak front door.

"Everyone here? You there, still got yer toad?"

Hagrid raised a gigantic fist and knocked three times on the castle door.


	9. Chapter Eight

Secret Relations

Chapter Eight

The door swung open a once. A tall, black-haired witch in emerald-green robes stood there. She had a very stern face and Elle's first thought was that this was not someone to cross.

"The firs' years, Professor McGonagall," said Hagrid.

"Thank you, Hagrid. I will take them from here."

She pulled the door wide. The entrance hall was so big you could have fit the whole of the Chadwick's house in it. The stone walls were lit with flaming torches like the ones at Gringotts, the ceiling was too high to make out, and a magnificent marble staircase facing them led to the upper floors.

They followed Professor McGonagall across the flagged stone floor. Elle could hear the drone of hundreds of voices from a doorway to the right — the rest of the school must already be here — but Professor McGonagall showed the first years into a small, empty chamber off the hall. They crowded in, standing closer together than they would usually have done, peering about nervously.

"Welcome to Hogwarts," said Professor McGonagall. "The start-of-term banquet will begin shortly, but before you take your seats in the Great Hall, you will be sorted into your Houses. The Sorting is a very important ceremony because, while you are here, your House will be something like your family within Hogwarts. You will have classes with the rest of your House, sleep in your House dormitory, and spend free time in your House common room.

"The four Houses are called Gryffindor, Huflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. Each House had its own noble history and each has produced outstanding witches and wizards. While you are at Hogwarts, your triumphs will earn your House points, while any rule breaking will lose House points. At the end of the year, the House with the most points is awarded the House Cup, a great honor. I hope each of you will be a credit to whichever House becomes yours.

"The Sorting Ceremony will take place in a few minutes in front of the rest of the school. I suggest you all smarten yourselves up as much as you can while you are waiting. I shall return when we are ready for you," said Professor McGonagall. "Please wait quietly."

She left the chamber.

"How exactly do they sort us into Houses?" Harry asked Ron.

"Some sort of test, I think. Fred said it hurts a lot, but I think he was joking."

Elle smiled softly at Ron's comment, but before she could say anything she felt someone bump into her rather hard. She grunted some and stumbled forward, glancing over her shoulder at the culprit. It was a boy with sandy brown hair and pale skin.

"Oh — er — sorry," he said in a thick Irish accent.

"It's fine," Elle said with a soft smile. She went to turn forward, but the boy stopped her.

"I-I'm sorry to ask, but are you. . . . Are you Eleanor Riddle?" he said curiously.

Elle couldn't stop the groan that escaped her lips. "Yes — I go by Elle though."

It was obvious she was a bit annoyed, and the boy's face flushed some. "O-oh, I-I'm sorry, I didn't mean to bother you —"

Instantly, Elle felt guilty — he obviously hadn't intended to annoy her. She forced a small smile.

"Sorry, it was just a long train ride," she said. "What's your name?"

"Seamus Finnigan," he said with a grin.

"Nice to meet you, Seamus," Elle said softly, holding her hand out to him.

"You too, Elle," said Seamus, shaking her hand.

Suddenly, several people screamed, and they both turned and saw why. About twenty ghosts had just streamed through the back wall. Pearly-white and slightly transparent, they glided across the room talking to one another and hardly glancing at the first years. They seemed to be arguing. What looked like a fat little monk was saying: "Forgive and forget, I say, we ought to give him a second chance —"

"My dear Friar, haven't we given Peeves all he chances he deserves? He gives us all a bad name and you know, he's not really even a ghost — I say, what are you all doing here?"

A ghost wearing a ruff and tights had suddenly noticed the first years.

Nobody answered.

"New students!" said the Fat Friar, smiling around at them. "About to be Sorted, I suppose?"

A few people nodded mutely.

"Hope to see you in Hufflepuff!" said the Friar. "My old House, you know."

"Move along now," said a sharp voice. "The Sorting Ceremony's about to start."

Professor McGonagall had returned. One by one, the ghosts floats away through the opposite wall.

"Now, form a line," Professor McGonagall told the first years, "and follow me."

Elle got at the front of the line behind Harry and Ron, Seamus trailing behind her, and they walked out of the chamber, back across the hall, and through a pair of double doors and into the Great Hall.

It was lit by thousands and thousands of candles that were floating in midair over four long tables, where the rest of the students were sitting. These tables were laid with glittering golden plates and goblets. At the top of the hall was another long table where teachers were sitting. Professor McGonagall led the first years up here, so that they came to a halt in a line facing the other students, with the teachers behind them. The hundred of faces staring at them looked like pale lanterns in the candlelight. Dotted here and there amoung the students, the ghosts shone misty silver. To avoid everyone's gazes, Elle looked up at the velvety black ceiling dotted with stars.

Professor McGonagall silently placed a four-legged stool in front of the first years. On top of the stool she put a pointed wizard's hat. This hat was patched and frayed and extremely dirty.

For a few seconds, there was complete silence. Then, the hat twitched. A rip near the brim opened wide like a mouth — and the hat began to sing:

"_Oh, you may not think I'm pretty,_

_But don't judge on what you see,_

_I'll eat myself if you can find_

_A smarter hat than me._

_You can keep your bowlers black,_

_Your top hats sleek and tall,_

_For I'm the Hogwarts Sorting Hat_

_And I can top them all._

_There's nothing hidden in your head_

_The Sorting Hat can't see,_

_So try me on and I will tell you_

_Where you ought to be._

_You might belong to Gryffindor,_

_Where dwell the brave at heart,_

_Their daring, nerve, and chivary_

_Set Gryffindors apart;_

_You might belong to Hufflepuff,_

_Where they are just as loyal,_

_Those patient Hufflepuffs are true_

_And unafraid of toil;_

_Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw,_

_If you're a ready mind,_

_Where those of wit and learning,_

_Will always find their kind;_

_Or perhaps in Slytherin_

_You'll make your real friends,_

_Those cunning folks use any mean_

_To achieve their ends._

_So put me on! Don't be afraid!_

_And don't get in a flap!_

_You're in safe hands (though I have none)_

_For I'm a Thinking Cap!"_

The whole hall burst into applause as the hat finished its song. It bowed to each of the four tables and then became quite still again.

"So we've just got to try on the hat!" Ron whispered to Elle and Harry. "I'll kill Fred, he was going on about wrestling a troll."

Elle smiled softly, "Well, at least he was lying."

Ron grinned at this, "Yeah, you're right."

Feeling more relaxed now that she knew being Sorted wasn't going to hurt, Elle felt excited.

Professor McGonagall stepped forward holding a long roll of parchment.

"When I call your name, you will put on the hat and sit on the stool to be sorted," she said. "Abbot, Hannah!"

And so the Sorting began. It went on for a while. Hannah Abbot, Susan Bones, and Justic Finch-Fletchley were just some of the first years put into Hufflepuff. Terry Boot and Mandy Brocklehurst went to Ravenclaw, and Lavender Brown became the first Gryffindor.

Millicent Bulstrode became a Slytherin. Elle and Harry both agreed that all the people in Slytherin looked extremely unpleasant.

Harry leaned over to Elle after a few moments and said, "Are you feeling sick?"

"No, why?"

"I was just thinking. . . . You and I were always picked last at our old school. . . . What if it happens here?"

Elle only shrugged. "Don't worry. Even if we _are_ picked last, it's not that big of a deal. We'll be sorted, and hopefully into the same house."

"Finnigan, Seamus," called out Professor McGonagall.

"Hope I don't get Slytherin," Seamus muttered before going up and sitting on the stool.

Professor McGonagall placed the hat on Seamus' head and it was silent for a minute (an extremely long minute) before finally shouting, "GRYFFINDOR!"

Seamus let out a sigh of relief and smiled bright at Elle as he headed towards the Gryffindor table.

"Granger, Hermione!"

A girl with curly brown hair practically sprinted to the stool and jammed the hat on her head eagerly.

"GRYFFINDOR!" shouted the hat. Ron groaned.

"Elle," whispered Harry, who seemed even more nervous, "I was just thinking, and . . . and what if we're not picked at all? What if this is just some big mistake?"

"Harry, it's not," Elle assured him. "You'll be fine. Now just pay attention, you may be called up next."

Neville Longbottom, the boy who kept losing his toad, was called, and he fell over on his way to the stool. The hat took a long time to decide with Neville. When it finally shouted, "GRYFFINDOR," Neville ran off still wearing it, and had to jog back amid gales of laughter to give it to "MacDougal, Morag."

Malfoy happily strutted forward when his name was called and got his wish at once: the hat had barely touched his head when it screamed, "SLYTHERIN!"

Malfoy went to join his friends Crabbe and Goyle, looking pleased with himself. There weren't many people left now, and Harry was looking even more nervous.

_If that's possible, _thought Elle.

"Moon" . . . ., "Nott" . . . , "Parkinson" . . . , then a pair of twin girls, "Patil" and "Patil" . . . , then "Perks, Sally-Anne" . . . , and then, at last —

"Potter, Harry!"

"I was called!" Harry whispered excitedly to Elle.

"Told you," Elle grinned.

Harry stepped forward and whispers suddenly broke out like little hissing fires all over the hall.

"_Potter_, did she say?"

"_The_ Harry Potter?"

Everyone was deathly silent as the hat was placed on Harry's head, and Elle thought that they were all holding their breath.

Harry sat on the stool, gripping the edges seat tightly, and Elle could see how tense he was. She wasn't sure how much time had passed — seconds, minutes, hours — but it seemed like a lifetime before the Sorting Hat spoke.

"GRYFFINDOR!"

The Great Hall exploded with whoops and a loud applause, and Elle watched Harry as he walked towards her.

"How was it?" she asked him.

"Different."

"Was it fun though?"

"Nerve-racking, that's for sure. The hat takes your choice into account though."

And with that, Harry went off to take a seat at the Gryffindor table and Elle felt a sudden sinking feeling in her stomach as he walked away — what if she and Harry weren't put into the same house? What if she ended up in Hufflepuff or Ravenclaw? Or, even worse yet, what if she was sorted into Slytherin with Malfoy? But Harry did say the Sorting Hat took their choice into consideration. . . .

Then, Professor McGonagall shouted, pulling Elle out of her thoughts —

"Riddle, Eleanor!"

The whispering that started when Harry walked up started once again and Elle felt her cheeks burn bright red.

"_Riddle_? Did she say Riddle?"

"Man, Harry Potter _and _Eleanor Riddle?"

Elle slowly stepped forward, trembling some — she wasn't accustomed to people taking such an interest in her. As she walked towards the stool, Elle saw a man with a long white beard and half moon glasses, and she recognized him as Professor Dumbledore. He was watching her carefully, a small smile on his face. She sat on the stool and Professor McGonagall placed the hat on her head.

The last thing Elle saw before the hat dropped over her eyes was the hall full of people craning to get a good look at her. Next second she was looking at the black inside of the hat. She waited.

"Hmmm," said a small voice in her ear. It was the Sorting Hat. "Let me see. . . . I sense great power flowing through you, and you have plenty courage. . . . You have a great mind as well, I see, and much talent. . . . There is great potential for you in Gryffindor. . . . But what is this? Riddle is your surname, eh? I remember your father. . . . Your father did things that everyone here knows of, and they will never forget, I promise you.

"But what about your mother? She was in Gryffindor, and she did very well. Where to put you . . . where to put you? You could easily fit into Slytherin, it's in your blood. Though your mother's traits run strong through you. . . .

"You want to prove yourself to everyone, make yourself known. You're struggling to understand just what you are exactly. You know you're a witch, that much is clear, but you aren't sure whether you fit in or not."

_Gryffindor, _Elle thought to herself._ Please put me in Gryffindor. . . . Please put me in Gryffindor. . . ._

"Oooooh. . . . Gryffindor, mm?" said the small voice. "Really? Slytherin could help you, you know. You'd fit in perfectly. . . . No? Well then, I must say, we have two very strong-headed first years in this batch. . . . Alright then, if you're sure — GRYFFINDOR!"

Elle heard the hat shout the last word to the whole hall, and a huge applause broke out over the students. She took off the hat and walked shakily toward the Gryffindor table, where Harry had saved her a seat. Percy the Prefect got up and shook her hand vigorously, while the Weasley twins yelled, "We got Potter and Riddle! We got Potter and Riddle!"

"So, what did you think?" said Harry with a bemused sort of grin.

"It was terrible," Elle muttered, slumping in the seat beside Harry. "I've never been more nervous in my life."

Harry chuckled lights, and Elle sighed, looking towards the front of the hall. Lilly could see the High Table properly now. At the end nearest her and Harry sat Hagrid, who caught her eye and gave her a thumbs up. Elle grinned back. Elle spotted Professor Quirrell, too, the nervous young man from the Leaky Cauldron. He was looking very peculiar in a large purple turban.

And now there were only four people left to be sorted. "Thomas, Dean," joined Harry and Elle at the Gryffindor table. "Turpin, Lisa," became a Ravenclaw and the it was Ron's turn. He was pale green by now. Elle looked on hopefully and a second later the hat had shouted, "GRYFFINDOR!"

Elle and Harry clapped loudly with the rest as Ron collapsed into the chair next to Elle.

"Well done, Ron, excellent," said Percy Weasley pompously across Elle as "Zabini, Blaise," was made a Slytherin. Professor McGonagall rolled up her scroll and took the Sorting Hat away.

Elle looked down at her empty gold plate, realizing just how starving she was. All that food on the train seemed like ages ago.

Albus Dumbledore had gotten to his feet, and he was beaming at the students, his arms opened wide, as if nothing could have pleased him more than to see them all there.

"Welcome!" he said. "Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts! Before we begin our banquet, I would like to say a few words. And here they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak!

"Thank you!"

Elle's mouth fell open. The dishes in front of her were now piled with food. She had never seen so many things she liked to eat on one table: roast beef, roast chicken, pork chops and lamb chops, sausages, bacon and steak, boiled potatoes, roast potatoes, fries, Yorkshire pudding, peas, carrots, gravy, ketchup, and, for some strange reason, peppermint humbugs.

Elle piled her plate with a little bit of everything except the peppermints and began to eat. It was all delicious.

"That does look good." said the ghost in the ruff sadly, watching Harry and Elle cut up their steaks.

"Can't you —?" trailed Harry.

"I haven't eaten for nearly five hundred years," said the ghost. "I don't need to, of course, but one does miss it. I don't think I've introduced myself? Sir Nicholas de Mimsy-Porpington at your service. Resident ghost of Gryffindor Tower."

"I know who you are!" said Ron suddenly. "My brothers told me about you — you're Nearly Headless Nick!"

"I would _prefer_ you to call me Sir Nicholas de Mimsy —" the ghost began stiffly, but Seamus Finnigan interrupted.

"_Nearly_ Headless? How can you be _nearly_ headless?"

Sir Nicholas looked extremely miffed, as if their little chat wasn't going at all the way he wanted.

"Like _this_," he said irritably. He seized his left ear and pulled. His whole head swung off his neck and fell onto his shoulder as if it was on a hinge. Someone had obviously tried to behead him, but not done it properly. Looking pleased at the stunned looks on their faces, Nearly Headless Nick flipped his head back onto his neck, coughed, and said, "So — new Gryffindors! I hope you're going to help us win the House Championship this year! Gryffindors have never gone so long without winning. Slytherins have got the Cup six years in a row! The Bloody Baron's becoming almost unbearable — he's the Slytherin ghost."

Elle, Ron, Harry, and Seamus followed Sir Nicholas' gaze over to the Slytherin table and saw a horrible ghost sitting there, with black staring eyes, a gaunt face, and robes stained with silver blood. He was right next to Malfoy who didn't look too pleased with the seating arrangements.

"How did he get covered in blood?" asked Seamus with great interest.

"I've never asked," said Sir Nicholas delicately.

When everyone had eaten as much as they could, the remains of the food faded from the plates, leaving them sparkling clean as before. A moment later the desserts appeared. Blocks of ice cream in every flavor you could think of, apple pies, treacle tarts, chocolate éclairs and jam doughnuts, trifle, strawberries, Jell-O, rice pudding . . .

As Elle helped herself to a chocolate éclair, the talk turned to their families.

"I'm half-and-half," said Seamus. "Me dad's a Muggle, Mum didn't tell him she was a witch 'til after they were married. Bit of a nasty shock for him."

The others laughed.

"What about you, Neville?" said Ron.

"Well, my gran brought me up and she's a witch," said Neville, "but the family thought I was all-Muggle for ages. My Great Uncle Algie kept trying to catch me off my guard and force some magic out of me — he pushed me off the end of Blackpool pier once, I nearly drowned — but nothing happened until I was eight. Great Uncle Algie came round for dinner, and he was hanging me out of an upstairs window by the ankles when my Great Auntie Enid offered him a meringue and he accidentally let go. But I bounced — all the way down the garden and into the road. They were all really pleased, Gran was crying, she was so happy. And you should have seen their faces when I got in here — they thought I might not be magic enough to come, you see. Great Uncle Algie was so pleased he bought me my toad."

Elle was only partly paying attention to their coversations. She looked up at the High Table again. Hagrid was drinking deeply from his goblet. Professor McGonagall was talking to Professor Dumbledore. Professor Quirrell, in his absurd turban (something he hadn't been wearing the first time they'd met), was talking to a teacher with greasy black hair, a hooked nose, and sallow skin. Elle looked on curiously, but as she did, she felt an odd tingling sensation start in her left forearm. She furrowed her brow and looked down at her arm curiously, but saw nothing visibly wrong with her arm.

"Odd. . . ," she muttered to herself, running her fingers over her forearm.

"Ouch!" Harry said suddenly, clapping his hand to his head.

Elle looked at him, obviously concerned, forgetting about her arm.

"What is it?" asked Elle, her eyes wide.

"N-nothing," Harry said quickly — Elle frowned some; was Harry lying to her? Then, looking for a subject change, Harry garnered Percy's attention.

"Who's that teacher talking to Professor Quirrell?" he asked, his hand leaving his head.

"Oh, you know Quirrell already, do you? No wonder he's looking so nervous, that's Professor Snape. He teaches Potions, but he doesn't want to — everyone knows he's after Quirrell's job. Knows an awful lot about the Dark Arts, Snape."

Harry continued to watch Snape for a while longer, and Elle frowned some.

"Harry, what's wrong?" she said quietly.

Harry looked a bit troubled and leaned close to Elle, speaking lowly. "Snape looked straight at me for just a moment, and a sharp, hot pain shot across the scar on my forehead. . . . But it's gone now."

Elle looked surprised — she had known Harry her entire life, and never once had he ever mentioned anything about his scar bothering him. She helped Harry keep an eye on Snape, but Snape didn't look at him again.

At last, the desserts too disappeared, and Professor Dumbledore got to his feet again. The hall fell silent.

"Ahem — just a few more words now that we are all fed and watered. I have a few start-of-term notices to give you.

"First years should note that the forest on the grounds is forbidden to all pupils. And a few of our older students would do well to remember that as well."

Dumbledore's twinkling eyes flashed in to the direction of the Weasley twins, who grinned wildly.

"I have also been asked by Mr. Filch, the caretaker, to remind you all that no magic should be used between classes in the corridors.

"Quidditch trials will be held in the second week of the term. Anyone interested in playing for their House teams should contact Madam Hooch.

"And finally, I must tell you that this year, the third-floor corridor on the right-hand side is out of bounds to everyone who does not wish to die a very painful death."

Harry chuckled beside Elle, but he was one of the few who did.

"He's not serious?" Harry muttered.

"Must be," said Percy, frowning at Dumbledore. "It's odd, because he usually gives us a reason why we're not allowed to go somewhere — the forest's full of dangerous beasts, everyone knowns that. I do think he might have told us prefects, at least."

"And now, before we go to bed, let us sing the school song!" cried Dumbledore.

Dumbledore gave his wand a little flick, as if he was trying to get a fly off the end, and a long golden ribbon flew out of it, which rose high above the tables and twisted itself, snakelike, into words.

"Everyone pick their favorite tune," said Dumbledore, "and off we go!"

And the school bellowed:

"_Hogwarts, Hogwarts, Hoggy Warty Hogwarts,_

_Teach us something please,_

_Whether we be old and bald_

_Or young with scabby knees,_

_Our heads could do with filling_

_With some interesting stuff,_

_For now they're bare and full of air,_

_Dead flies and bits of fluff,_

_So teach us things worth knowing,_

_Bring back what we've forgot,_

_Just do your best, we'll do the rest,_

_And learn until our brains all rot."_

Everybody finished the song at different times. At last, only the Weasley twins were left singing along to a very slow funeral march. Dumbledore conducted their last few lines with his wand and when they had finished, he was one of those who clapped loudest.

"Ah, music," he said, wiping his eyes. "A magic beyond all we do here! And now, bedtime! Off you trot!"

The Gryffindor first years followed Percy through the chattering crowds, out of the Great Hall, and up the marble staircase. Elle felt extremely dizzy, but only because she was so tired and full of food. She was too sleepy even to be surprised that the people in the portraits along the corridors whispered and pointed as they passed, or that twice Percy led them through doorways hidden behind sliding panels and hanging tapestries. They climbed more staircases, yawning and dragging their feet, and Elle was just wondering how much farther they had to go when they came to a sudden halt.

A bundle of walking sticks was floating in midair ahead of them, and as Percy took a step toward them they started throwing themselves at him.

"Peeves," Percy whispered to the first years. "A poltergeist." He raised his voice, "Peeves — show yourself."

A loud, rude sound, like the air being let out of a balloon, answered.

"Do you want me to go to the Bloody Baron?"

There was a pop, and a little man with wicked, dark eyes and a wide mouth appeared, floating cross-legged in the air, clutching the walking sticks.

"Oooooooh!" he said, with an evil cackle. "Ickle Firsties! What fun!"

He swooped suddenly at them. They all ducked.

"Go away, Peeves, or the Baron'll hear about this, I mean it!" barked Percy.

Peeves stuck out his tongue and vanished, dropped the walking sticks on Neville's head. They heard him zooming away, rattling coats of armor as he passed.

"You want to watch out for Peeves," said the Percy, as they set off again. "The Bloody Baron's the only one who can control him, he won't even listen to us prefects. Here we are."

At the very end of the corridor hung a portrait of a very fat woman in a pink silk dress.

"Password?" she said.

"Caput Draconis," said Percy, and the portrait swung forward to reveal a round hole in the wall. They all scrambled through it — Neville needed a leg up — and found themselves in the Gryffindor common room, a cozy, round room full of squashy armchairs.

"All the girls, your dormitories are that way," Percy said, pointing at a staircase. "Follow the stairs and you'll find you rooms; and boys, your dormitories are this way. "

The students began to make their way up the stairs, but Elle, Harry, and Ron hung back for just a moment.

"Are you feeling better now?" said Elle curiously as she looked at Harry — she could help but worry about him, and his scar had never bothered him before.

Harry smiled softly and nodded. "Yeah — I think it was just a one time thing."

Elle smiled, relived. "Okay, well, we'd best get some sleep then."

Harry nodded in agreement. "I suppose you're right — good night, Elle."

"Night, Harry," she smiled. "Night, Ron."

"G'night, Elle," Ron said.

Elle then headed towards the girls' dormitories. At the top of the spiral staircase — she was obviously in one of the towers — she found her bed at last: five four-posters hung with deep red, velvet curtains. Their trunks had already been brought up. Elle's four roommates were already in their beds, and she recognized all of them — Lavender Brown, Parvati Patil, Eloise Midgen, and Hermione Grander; all the first years that had been sorted into Gryffindor. All the girls sat on their beds talking excitedly to one another; all of them except Hermione, who sat on her bed, a book sitting open on her lap.

When Elle stepped into the room though, the chatter immediately stopped, and Lavender, Parvati, and Eloise all looked towards her.

"I _told_ you she'd be rooming with us," whispered Lavender excitedly.

"I didn't think they'd put her in here with us," said Eloise, her eyes wide.

"Can you believe it — we're rooming with Eleanor Riddle!" Parvati giggled.

Elle was very tired, which meant that she wasn't in the mood to put up with the leering and whispers. Perhaps she wouldn't be so bothered by it if they weren't all acting as if she couldn't possibly hear them, or if she hadn't spent the entirety of dinner with people gawking at her as though she were in a zoo.

"If you all wouldn't mind," Elle said very plainly, going to the bed her trunk was positioned in front of, "I would appreciate it if you wouldn't speak about me as if I wasn't here."

The three girls all looked surprised, as if they never thought she would hear them loudly whispering about her. Elle sighed heavily and sat on her bed, smiling some when she saw her cat, Dubbie, curled up on the foot of her bed. When Elle settled down in her bed, Dubbie looked up, seemingly pleased to see Elle, and the small cat stood up, stretched, and then trotted over to Elle, climbing into her lap.

Elle noticed Parvati, Eloise, and Lavender had all moved from their beds and gathered on the floor by Parvati's bed, as if trying to keep hidden from view. Elle could see the top of their heads, and they were drawn very close together, and she could hear them all attempting to whisper to each other, but she could still hear what they were saying; and of course, they were talking about Elle.

Frustrated, Elle let out a sigh and leaned back, resting against the headboard of her bed, closing her eyes.

"Don't mind them," said a voice.

Elle's eyes shot opened and she looked over and saw Hermione had put down her book and was now looking at Elle with a small smile.

"They were talking about me until you walked in," Hermione continued. "I don't think they actually know how to whisper."

Elle chuckled softly, feeling a bit better.

"What's your cat's name?" said Hermione curiously.

"Her name is Dubbie," said Elle with a smile. "Did you bring a pet?"

Hermione shook her head. "No, my parents didn't buy one — it was a bit of a culture shock for them, going to Diagon Alley, so I tried not to pester them about a pet."

Elle nodded. "If you don't mind me asking, how odd is it coming here after growing up in a non-magic household your entire life?"

Hermione looked a bit surprised that Elle asked. "It's been quite the experience — the last month since I received my letter has been quite the whirlwind of events. My mother and father were very surprised when I got my letter, and so was I, but they seemed to be just as excited as I was —"

And so, Hermione and Elle talked to each other for well over an hour, Dubbie going to sleep at some point during their conversation. The two of them even managed to stay up later than Lavender, Parvati, and Eloise, who all went to bed while the two girls were talking. It wasn't until Hermione stole a glance and the large clock that hung on the wall that they realized how late it was.

"Oh my," Hermione said, her eyes widening some. "It's nearly eleven o'clock — I didn't realize we had been talking so long."

Elle's eyes widened some, and she looked at the close — sure enough, Hermione was right. It was awfully late, and tomorrow was the first day of classes.

"I guess we better get off to bed then," Elle muttered.

Hermione laughed softly and nodded, laying down in her bed. "Well, good night, Elle."

"Mm, good night, Hermione," Elle said softly, laying in her bed and getting under the covers.

As Elle laid there, she realized just how wrong her first impression of Hermione had been — much like Ron, she had assumed she was a very annoying, studious girl. And while her studies may have been on the the forefront of Hermione's mind, Elle quickly learned there was much more to her than meets the eye.

However, Elle didn't think about that for too long, because very shortly after she laid down, she fell fast asleep.

* * *

**Author's Note: Hey there, everyone! First of all, I just wanted to say thank you for reading my story, I really appreciate it, especially if you're reading this, which means you've read this far along in the story! Second, I just wanted to take a minute and say a few things. Some of you may have read Secret Relations before — I wrote this story long ago and had it posted on here, but I stopped writing it. I realized that I didn't like how the story was written, and there were so many things I could have done better, so I decided to delete the story and start from scratch. So, this is Secret Relations, just revamped; I've changed Lily's name to Elle (I liked it better), and I've changed a few major plot points. So, if you were one of my readers from the original story, I hope you like the updated version better. I hope to keep chapters coming out steadily, as I have all the way until year four typed up. Anyway, thank you all for reading, and feel free to leave a comment and let me know what you think! Anyway, that's all I have to say for now — stay tuned for chapter nine!**


	10. Chapter Nine

Secret Relations

Chapter Nine

"There, look."

"Where?"

"Next to the tall kid with the red hair."

"Wearing the glasses?"

"Did you see his face?"

"What about her?"

"Yeah, that's definitely her."

"Do you believe those rumors?"

"About her mother?"

"What about her father?"

"People are saying he worked for You-Know-Who."

"I'm surprised she wasn't put in Slytherin."

"Probably thought she would turn out evil."

"Did you see his forehead?"

"Did you see his scar?"

Whispers followed Harry and Elle from the moment they left their dormitory the next day. People lining up outside classrooms stood on tiptoe to get a look at them, or doubled back to pass them in the corridors again, staring. Elle wished they wouldn't, because she was trying to concentrate on finding her way to classes.

There were a hundred and forty-two staircases at Hogwarts: wide, sweeping ones; narrow, rickety ones; some that led somewhere different on a Friday; some with a vanishing step halfway up that you had to remember to jump. Then there were doors that wouldn't open unless you asked politely, or tickled them in exactly the right place, and doors that weren't really doors at all, but solid walls just pretending. It was also very hard to remember where anything was, because it all seemed to move around a lot. The people in the portraits kept going to visit each other, and Harry told Elle he was sure the coats of armor could walk.

The ghosts didn't help, either. It was always a nasty shock when one of them glided suddenly through a door you were trying to open. Nearly Headless Nick was always happy to point new Gryffindors in the right direction, but Peeves the Poltergeist was worth two locked doors and a trick staircase if you met him when you were late for class. He would drop wastepaper baskets on your head, pull rugs from under your feet, pelt you with bits of chalk, or sneak up behind you, invisible, grab your nose, and screech, "GOT YOUR CONK!"

Even worse than Peeves, if that was possible, was the caretaker, Argus Filch. Harry, Ron, and Elle managed to get on the wrong side of him on their very first morning. Filch found them trying to force their way through a door that unluckily turned out to be the entrance of the out-of-bounds corridor on the third floor. He wouldn't believe they were lost, was sure they were trying to break into it on purpose, and was threatening to lock them in the dungeons when they were rescued by Professor Quirrell, who was passing.

Filch owned a cat called Mrs. Norris, a scrawny, dust-colored creature with bulging, lamplike eyes just like Filch's. She patrolled the corridors alone. Break a rule in front of her, put just one toe out of line, and she'd whisk off for Filch, who'd appear, wheezing, two seconds later. Filch knew the secret passageways of the school better than anything (except perhaps the Weasley twins) and could pop up as suddenly as any of the ghosts. The students all hated him, and it was the dearest ambition of many to give Mrs. Norris a good kick.

Once you managed to find your classes, it was then the matter of classes themselves. As Elle soon learned, there was a lot more to magic besides waving your wand and saying a few funny words.

They had to study the night skies through their telescopes every Wednesday at midnight and learn the names of different stars and the movements of the planets. Three times a week they went out to the greenhouses behind the castle to study Herbology, with a dumpy little witch called Professor Sprout, where they learned how to take care of all the strange plats and fungi, and found out what they were used for.

Easily the most boring class was History of Magic, which was the only one taught by a ghost. Professor Binns had been very old indeed when he had fallen asleep in front of the staffroom fire and got up next morning to teach, leaving his body behind him. Binns droned on and on while they scribbled down names and dates, and got Emeric the Evil and Uric the Oddball mixed up.

Professor Flitwick, the Charms teacher, was a tiny little wizard who had to stand on a pile of books to see over his desk. At the start of their first class he took the roll call, and when he reached Harry and Elle's names he gave an excited squeak and toppled out of sight.

Professor McGonagall was again different. Elle had been quite right to think she wasn't a teacher to cross. Strict and clever, she gave them a talking-to the moment they sat down in her first class.

"Transfiguration is some of the most complex and dangerous magic you will learn at Hogwarts," she said. "Anyone messing around in my class will leave and not come back. You have been warned."

Then she changed her desk into a pig and back again. They were all very impressed and couldn't wait to get started, but soon realized they weren't going to be changing the furniture into animals for a long time. After taking a lot of complicated notes, they were each given a match and started trying to turn it into a needle. By the end of the lesson, only Elle and Hermione had made any difference to their matches; Professor McGonagall showed the class how they had gone all silver and pointy and gave the two girls a rare smile.

The class everyone had really been looking forward to was Defense Against the Dark Arts, but Quirrell's lesson turned out to be a bit of a joke. His classroom smelled strongly of garlic, which everyone said was to ward off a vampire he'd met in Romania and was afraid would be coming back to get him one of these days. His turban, he told them, had been given to him by an African prince as a thank-you for getting rid of a troublesome zombie, but they weren't sure they believed this story. For one thing, when Seamus asked eagerly to hear how Quirrell had fought off the zombie, Quirrell went pink and started talking about the weather; for another, they had noticed that a funny smell hung around the turban, and the Weasley twins insisted that it was stuffed full of garlic as well, so that Quirrell was protected wherever he went.

Elle was very relieved to find out she wasn't miles behind everyone else. Lots of people had come from Muggle families and hadn't had any idea that they were witches and wizards. There was so much to learn that even people like Ron didn't have much of a head start.

Friday was an important day for Elle, Harry, and Ron. They finally managed to find their way down to the Great Hall for breakfast without getting lost once.

"What have we got today?" Harry asked Elle and Ron as he poured sugar into his porridge.

"Double Potions with Slytherins," said Ron. "Snape's Head of Slytherin House. They say he always favors them — we'll be able to see if it's true."

"Wish McGonagall favored us," said Harry. Professor McGonagall was head of the Gryffindor House, but it hadn't stopped her from giving them a huge pile of homework the day before.

Elle looked around and spotted Hermione just as she walked into the Great Hall. She waved her over and Ron muttered something under his breath when Hermione came over and sat next to Elle. Then, the mail arrived. Elle had gotten used to this by now, but it had given her a bit of a shock on the first morning, when about a hundred owls had suddenly streamed into the Great Hall during breakfast, circling the tables until they saw their owners, and dropping letters and packages onto their laps.

Elle had noticed that Hedwig hadn't brought Harry anything so far. She sometimes flew in to nibble Harry's ear and get a bit of toast from Elle before going off to sleep in the owlery with the other school owls. This morning, however, she fluttered down between the marmalade and the sugar bowl and dropped a note onto Harry's plate. Elle and Harry looked at each other before Harry tore open the envelope at once. It said, in very untidy scrawl.

_Dear Harry,_

_I know you get Friday afternoons off, so would you and Elle like to come and have a cup of tea with me around three? I want to hear all about your first week. Send us an answer back with Hedwig._

_Hagrid_

Harry borrowed Ron's quill, scribbled _Yes, please, see you later _on the back of the note, and sent Hedwig off again.

"Are you ready for Potions class?" Hermione asked Elle as she ate some bacon.

"Er, sort of," said Elle. "I've been looking forward to the subject, but it's with the Slytherins."

"So?" said Hermione curiously, not sure why that mattered much.

"I've met a few Slytherins," Elle said, thinking back to Malfoy and his two goons, "and it's safe to say, I'm not a big fan."

It was lucky Elle had tea with Hagrid to look forward to, because the Potions lesson turned out to be the worst thing that had happened to her so far.

Potions lessons took place down in one of the dungeons. It was colder here than up in the main castle, and would have been quite creepy enough without the pickled animals floating in glass jars all around the walls.

Snape, like Flitwick, started the class by taking the roll call, and like Flitwick, he paused at Harry's name.

"Ah, yes," he said softly, "Harry Potter. Our new — _celebrity_."

Draco Malfoy and his friends Crabbe and Goyle sniggered behind their hands. Snape continued calling names and when he reached Elle's name, he paused once more.

"My, my, my . . . Eleanor Riddle_ and _Harry Potter. Well, don't think that just because you two are famous that you'll get special treatment," he spat.

Elle, feeling bold, opened her mouth and said, "I don't believe we asked for any."

Professor Snape looked Elle over with a very displeased look but acted as if he didn't hear her. The rest of the class, however, looked at her, their eyes wide. She flushed with embarrassment and sank a little in her seat — she was used to sticking up for Harry whenever Dudley and his friends would pick on him, so it was second nature for her to act brave. However, she very quickly realized that Snape's classroom wasn't the time or place for bravery.

"You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potion making," he started. "As there is little foolish wand-waving here, many of you will hardly believe this is magic. I don't expect you will really understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses. . . . I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death — if you aren't as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach."

Silence followed the speech, and Hermione, who sitting next to Elle, sat on the edge of her seat, looking desperate to start proving that she wasn't a dunderhead. Elle couldn't lie, she was very eager about Potions class. Mrs. Chadwick always spoke very highly of her time at Hogwarts, and always went on and on about how much she enjoyed her Potions class. However, when Mrs. Chadwick was in school, the Potions teacher was a man by the name of Horace Slughorn. Elle was quite sure her adopted mother wouldn't enjoy Potions half as much if she had had Snape as a professor.

"Potter!" said Snape suddenly. "What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"

Hermione's hand shot into the air. Harry looked to Elle, begging for help, but she only didn't want to speak out of turn again.

"I don't know, sir," said Harry.

Snape's lips curled into a sneer.

"Tue, tut — fame clearly isn't everything."

It seemed as if he was ignoring Hermione's hand.

"Let's try again. Potter, where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?"

Hermione stretched her hand as high into the air as it would go without her leaving her seat, but it seemed as if Harry didn't have the faintest idea what a bezoar was. Elle shot a glare at Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle, who were shaking with laughter. Malfoy caught her eye and stopped laughing immediately and smacked both Crabbe and Goyle before smiling at her — what was he getting at? She just rolled her eyes and turned back to the front.

"I don't know, sir," Harry said again.

"Thought you wouldn't open a book before coming, eh, Potter?"

Snape was still ignoring Hermione's quivering hand.

"What is the difference, Potter, between monkshood and wolfsbane?"

At this, Hermione stood up, her hand stretching toward the dungeon ceiling. Elle, on the other hand, was beginning to lose her patience with Snape — why was he so insistent on barraging Harry with questions when it was quite obvious he didn't know? Especially with Hermione straining to answer his every question.

"I don't know," said Harry quietly. "I think Hermione does, though, why don't you try her?"

A few people laughed; Snape, however, was not pleased.

"Sit down," he snapped at Hermione. As she sat, Elle, who decided she had had enough of this, stood. Snape looked at Elle vaguely. "That applies to everyone, Miss Riddle." However, Elle was feeling brave once again, and she remained standing. Snape grew irritated, and he narrowed his eyes at her. "Miss Riddle, I said —"

"Asphodel and wormwood makes the Draught of the Living Death; an extremely powerful sleeping potion. A bezoar is a stone found in the stomach of a goat and will save you from most poisons. As for monkshood and wolfsbane, they are the same plant, which also goes by the name of aconite," Elle stated, remembering the endless nights she spent with her nose tucked away into her book _One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi_ — it was a book Mrs. Chadwick had recommended she read up on_._

The room was deathly silent; everyone was watching Elle and Snape, as if they were expecting for them to draw their wands and begin to fight. Instead, Snape broke his gaze with Elle and she sat down. Hermione gave Elle a very strange look but then turned her attention to Snape.

"A point will be taken from Gryffindor for your cheek, Potter," Snape said. Then he looked at Elle, "And you, Riddle; you just cost your house ten points. Speak out of turn again, and it will be another twenty."

Things didn't improve for the Gryffindors as the Potions lesson continued. Snape put them into pairs and set them to mixing up a simple potion to cure boils. Thankfully, Hermione and Elle were paired together, and next to them were Seamus and Neville.

Snape swept around in his long black cloak, watching them weigh dried nettles and crush snake fangs, criticizing almost everyone except Malfoy and Elle. He was just telling everyone to look at the perfect way Elle and Malfoy had stewed their horned slugs when clouds of acid green smoke and a loud hissing filled the dungeon. Elle looked and saw Neville had added the porcupine quills before taking the cauldron off the fire, and now Seamus' cauldron was melting.

"Neville, move!" Elle exclaimed, trying to pull him away.

But it was too late. Within seconds, the whole class was standing on their stools while Neville, who had been drenched in the potion when the cauldron collapsed, moaned in pain as angry red boils sprang up all over his arms and legs.

"Idiot boy!" snarled Snape, clearing the spilled potion away with one wave of his wand. "I suppose you added the porcupine quills before taking the cauldron off the fire?"

Neville whimpered as boils started to pop up all over his nose.

"Take him up to the hospital wing," Snape spat at Seamus. Then he rounded on Elle and Hermione who had been working next to Neville.

"You — Riddle — why didn't you tell him not to add the quills? Thought he'd make you look good if he got it wrong, did you? That's another point you've lost for Gryffindor."

This was so unfair that Elle opened her mouth to argue, but Ron, who sat on the other side of her and Hermione, kicked her swiftly.

"Don't push it," he muttered. "I've heard Snape can turn very nasty."

After Potions, Hermione bid farewell to Elle and hurried off, and so Elle climbed the steps out of the dungeon with Harry and Ron.

"I can't believe I lost us a house point already," Harry said glumly.

"At least you didn't lose eleven points," Elle muttered.

"Well, you did sort of ask for it," said Ron. Elle shot him a look, and his eyes widened, putting his hands up in surrender. "Hey, cheer up! Snape's always taking points off Fred and George. Can I come and meet Hagrid with you guys?"

At five to three they left the castle and made their way across the grounds. Hagrid lived in a small wooden house on the edge of the forbidden forest. A crossbow and a pair of galoshes were outside the front door.

When Elle knocked they heard a frantic scrabbling from inside and several booming barks. Then Hagrid's voice rand out, saying, "_Back_, Fang — _back_."

Hagrid's big, hairy face appeared in the crack as he pulled the door open.

"Hang on," he said. "_Back_, Fang."

He let them in, struggling to keep a hold on the collar of an enormous black hoarhound.

There was only one room inside. Hams and pheasants were handing from the ceiling, a copper kettle was boiling on the open fire, and in the corner stood a massive bed with a patchwork quilt over it.

"Make yourselves at home," said Hagrid, letting go of Fang, who bounded straight at Ron and started licking his ears. Like Hagrid, Fang was clearly not as fierce as he looked.

"This is Ron," Harry told Hagrid, who was pouring boiling water into a large teapot and putting rock cakes onto a plate.

"Another Weasley, eh?" said Hagrid, glancing at Ron's freckles. "I spent half me life chasing' yer twin brothers away from the forest."

The rock cakes were shapeless lumps with raisins that almost broke their teeth, but Elle, Harry, and Ron pretended to be enjoying them as they told Hagrid all about their first lessons. Fang rested his head on Elle's knee and drooled all over her robes.

Elle, Harry, and Ron were delighted to hear Hagrid call Filch "that old git."

"An' as fer that cat, Mrs. Norris, I'd like ter introduce her to Fang sometime. D'yeh know, every time I go up ter the school, she follows me everywhere? Can't get rid of her — Filch puts her up to it."

Harry told Hagrid about Snape's lesson, and Elle chimed in, tell him about the points he had taken from her. Hagrid, like Ron, told Elle and Harry not to worry about it, that Snape liked hardly any of the students.

"But he seemed to really hate me," said Harry.

"And I understand that I spoke out of turn, but he seems like he has it out for me," Elle muttered.

"Rubbish!" said Hagrid. "Why should he?"

Yet Elle couldn't help thinking that Hagrid didn't quite meet his eyes when he said that.

"How's yer brother Charlie?" Hagrid asked Ron. "I liked him a lot — great with animals."

Elle wondered if Hagrid had changed the subject on purpose. While Ron told Hagrid all about Charlie's work with dragons, Harry picked up a piece of paper that was lying on the table under the tea cozy, and Elle leaned over, reading it over his shoulder. It was a cutting from the Daily Prophet:

**_GRINGOTTS BREAK-IN LATEST_**

_Investigations continue into the break-in at Gringotts on 31 July, widely believed to be the work of Dark wizards or witches unknown._

_Gringotts goblins today insisted that nothing had been taken. The vault that was searched had in fact been emptied the same day._

_"But we're not telling you what was in there, so keep your noses out if you know what's good for you," said a Gringotts spokesgoblin this afternoon._

Elle remembered Ron telling her and Harry on the train that someone had tried to rob Gringotts, but Ron hadn't mentioned the date.

"That was the day we were there, wasn't it, Elle?" said Harry quietly. "On our birthday?"

Elle eyes widened slightly and she nodded, looking to Hagrid, who was still talking to Ron.

"Hagrid!" said Elle, "that Gringotts break-in happened on our birthday! It might've been happening while we were there!"

There was no doubt about it, Hagrid definitely didn't meet Elle's eyes this time. He grunted and offered her another rock cake. Elle and Harry read the story again. The vault that was searched had in fact been emptied earlier that same day. Hagrid had emptied vault seven hundred and thirteen, if you could call it emptying, taking out that grubby little package. Had that been what the thieves were looking for?

As Elle, Harry, and Ron walked back to the castle for dinner, their pockets weighed down with rock cakes they'd been too polite to refuse, Elle thought that none of the lessons she'd had so far had given her as much to think about as tea with Hagrid. Had Hagrid collected that package just in time? Where was it now? And did Hagrid know something about Snape that he didn't want to tell Elle and Harry?


	11. Chapter Ten

Secret Relations

Chapter Ten

As much as Elle dreaded double Potions with Slytherins on Friday, there was perhaps one thing she dreaded more, and that was the pinned up notice in the Gryffindor common room that stated flying lessons would be starting on Thursday — and Gryffindor and Slytherin would be learning together.

"Great," Elle said darkly. "I get to make a fool of myself on a broomstick in front of Malfoy."

"You?" said Harry. "What about me? Malfoy will find any reason to make fun of me."

"Oh come on. You don't know that you two'll make fools of yourselves," said Ron reasonable. "Anyway, I know Malfoy's always going on about how good he is at Quidditch, but I bet that's all talk."

Elle and Harry weren't the only ones who were nervous about flying lessons. Neville had never been on a broomstick in his life, because his grandmother had never let him near one.

"Can't really blame him, can you?" Harry muttered during breakfast as Neville shared his thoughts with them all. "He's had so many accidents already, even with both feet on the ground."

Hermione was also nervous — she was almost as nervous about flying as Neville was.

"It's not something you can learn from a book," Hermione said to Elle the night before flying lessons.

The two of them were both sitting on Elle's bed, and Hermione was reading _Quidditch Through the Ages_, while Elle was skimming through Hermione's copy of _Modern Magical History and The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts and Great Wizarding Events of the Twentieth Century._ Dubbie was stretched out on Hermione's bed, which was one of her favorite spots, second only to Elle's bed.

"Don't worry, Hermione," said Elle with a small grin. "I'm sure you'll get the hang of it — you're amazing at everything else."

Hermione's cheeks turned a slight shade of pink and she waved her hand dismissively. "Oh, you're just saying that. . . . But thank you, that does make me feel a bit better."

Elle chuckled some and looked down at the book in her lap — she was in the middle of the chapter dedicated to Harry. Well, one of the chapters dedicated to Harry; there were several of them. As interesting as it was (and slightly odd) that her friend was famous enough to be in a book, it wasn't the content Elle was looking for.

"Erm, Hermione?" said Elle.

Hermione looked up from _Quidditch Through the Ages_. "Yes, Elle?"

"You said my mother was in this book, right?" asked Elle. "Would you show me where?"

"Oh, sure," said Hermione simply, taking the book from Elle. She leafed through the pages, stopping every so often to skim the page in search of the text she was looking for. Then, Hermione made a soft 'tut' noise, and she held the book out in front of Elle, pointing to the top of the page.

"Right here," said Hermione. "She was apparently one of the most important spies during the Wizarding War."

Elle's eyes widened — her birth mother was a spy? She took the book from Hermione, quickly reading the text.

_Grace Elizabeth Darby (21 June 1960 - 31 October 1981)_

_Perhaps one of the most influential witches in the Wizarding War was Grace Darby. Grace Darby was born on 21 June, 1960 to Jonathan Darby and his wife Eleanor. Jonathan was an accomplished, yet retired Auror, and his wife Eleanor, a well-established botanist who served as the Herbology professor at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry from 1955 to 1976._

_Darby began attending Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry in 1971 and was Sorted into Gryffindor house. After graduating in 1978, at only eighteen years old, Darby was inducted into You-Know-Who's inner circle, but, unknown to everyone, she was working as a spy for Albus Dumbledore. It was thanks to her tireless efforts that countless lives were saved — witches, wizards, and Muggles included._

_During her time as a Death Eater spy, Darby became pregnant and gave birth to a daughter, Eleanor Merope Riddle. Many speculate that Eleanor's father was another Death Eater, but it has never been confirmed._

_Darby was killed on 31 October, 1981 by Bellatrix Lestrange. . . ._

The text went on for a few more paragraphs, going into a bit of detail about different stories of Grace's bravery and such, but they always came back to one thing — she was a Death Eater. Slowly, Elle closed the book, her brow furrowed.

"I. . . . I don't understand," Elle said softly. "My mum. . . . She was a Death Eater?"

"She was a spy for Dumbledore though," said Hermione. "She was never truly loyal to You-Know-Who."

Elle frowned some but nodded. "I. . . . I know, but still, she was a Death Eater. . . . My adopted parents never told me that."

"You said so yourself, you and Harry didn't even know the truth about what happened to your parents or anything about You-Know-Who until Hagrid told you that night at the cottage," said Hermione.

"I know, but they could have taken the time to tell me everything," Elle said rather bitterly.

Hermione frowned, looking a bit sympathetic. "I'm sure they wanted to, Elle, but they probably figured that, by not telling you, they were doing what was best for you."

"How is that what's best for me?" Elle said shortly, growing rather frustrated. "I've lived my entire life knowing nothing about my birth mum or even myself, meanwhile everyone knows my mum was a Death Eater, and they think my dad is too. I feel like the best thing for me would be to know who I really am."

"But, Elle, think about their situation. I mean, how do you explain to someone that their only known parent worked for You-Know-Who?"

Elle paused for a moment and looked at Hermione, her eyes widening some — she certainly hadn't thought about that.

"I. . . . I suppose you have a point," Elle said softly, looking away from Hermione and looking down at the book in front of her.

Of course Hermione had a point, but Elle could help but wonder why they would want to keep something like that hidden from Elle. After all, if Elle's mother was really as celebrated as this book depicted her, then why did everyone speak of her in hushed tones?

The next morning at breakfast, the owl post came, and Malfoy's eagle owl brought him a package of sweets from home, which he opened gloatingly at the Slytherin table.

A barn owl brought Neville a small package from his grandmother. He opened it excitedly and showed them a glass ball the size of a large marble, which seemed to be full of white smoke.

"It's a Remembrall!" he explained. "Gran knows I forget things — this tells you if there's something you've forgotten to do. Look, you hold it tight like this and if it turns red — oh . . ." His face fell, because the Remembrall had suddenly glowed scarlet, ". . . you've forgotten something . . ."

Neville was trying to remember what he'd forgotten when Draco Malfoy, who was passing the Gryffindor table, snatched the Remembrall out of his hand.

Elle, Harry, and Ron jumped to their feel. They were half hoping for a reason to fight Malfoy, but Professor McGonagall, who could spot trouble quicker than any teacher in the school, was there in a flash.

"What's going on?"

"Malfoy's got my Remembrall, Professor."

Scowling, Malfoy quickly dropped the Remembrall back on the table.

"Just looking," he said, and he sloped away with Crabbe and Goyle behind him.

At three-thirty that afternoon, Elle, Harry, Ron, and the other Gryffindors hurried down the front steps onto the grounds for their first flying lesson. It was a clear, breezy day, and the grass rippled under their feet as they marched down the sloping lawns toward a smooth, flat lawn on the opposite side of the grounds to the forbidden forest, whose trees were swaying darkly in the distance.

The Slytherins were already there, and so were twenty broomsticks lying in near lines on the ground. Elle had heard Fred and George Weasley complain about the school brooms, saying that some of them started to vibrate if you flew too high, or always flew slightly to the left.

Their teacher, Madam Hooch, arrived. She had short, gray hair, and yellow eyes like a hawk.

"Well, what are you all waiting for?" she barked. "Everyone stand by a broomstick. Come on, hurry up."

Elle glanced down at her broom. It was old and some of the twigs stuck out at odd angles.

A loud whistle was blown and all the Gryffindors jumped while the Slytherins laughed. Their teacher, Madam Hooch, arrived. She had short, gray hair, and yellow eyes like a hawk.

"Stick out your right hand over your broom," called Madam Hooch at the front, "and say 'Up!'"

"UP!" everyone shouted.

Elle's broom jumped into her hand at once, but it was one of the few that did — Harry also had the same success, as did Malfoy, but that was about it. Hermione's had simply rolled over on the ground, and Neville's hadn't moved at all. Perhaps brooms, like horses, could tell when you were afraid, thought Elle; there was a quaver in Neville's voice that said only too clearly that he wanted to keep his feet on the ground.

Madam Hooch then showed them how to mount their brooms without sliding off the end, and walked up and down the rows correcting their grips. Elle, Harry, and Ron were all delighted when she told Malfoy he'd been doing it wrong for years.

"Now, when I blow my whistle, you kick off from the ground, hard," said Madam Hooch. "Keep your brooms steady, rise a few feet, and then come straight back down by leaning forward slightly. On my whistle — three — two —"

But Neville, nervous and jumpy and frightened of being left on the ground, pushed off hard before the whistle had touched Madam Hooch's lips.

"Come back, boy!" Madam Hooch shouted to Neville, who was rising straight up like a cork shot out of a bottle — twelve feet — twenty feet. Elle saw his scared white face look down at the ground falling away, saw him gasp, slip sideways off the broom and —

WHAM — a thud and a nasty crack and Neville lay facedown on the grass in a heap. His broomstick was still rising higher and higher, and started to drift lazily toward the forbidden forest and out of sight.

Madam Hooch was bending over Neville, her face as white as his.

"Broken wrist," Elle heard Madam Hooch mutter. "Come on, boy — it's all right, up you get."

She turned to the rest of the class.

"None of you is to move while I take this boy to the hospital wing! You leave those brooms where they are or you'll be out of Hogwarts before you can say 'Quidditch.' Come on, dear."

Neville, his face tear-streaked, clutching his wrist hobbled off with Madam Hooch, who had her arm around him.

No sooner were they out of earshot than Malfoy burst into laughter.

"Did you see his face, the great lump?"

The other Slytherins joined in.

"Shut up, Malfoy," snapped Parvati Patil.

"Ooh, sticking up for Longbottom?" said Pansy Parkinson, a hard-face Slytherin girl. "Never thought _you'd_ like fat little crybabies, Parvati."

"Shut up, Pansy," growled Elle, stepping close to the Slytherin. "We actually care about the people in our house."

"Shove off, Riddle," Pansy muttered.

"Look!" said Malfoy, darting forward and snatching something out of the grass. "It's that stupid thing Longbottom's gran sent him."

The Remembrall glittered in the sun as he held it up.

"Give it here, Malfoy," said Harry quickly. Everyone stopped talking to watch and Elle grabbed Harry's wrist, not sure if he should be challenging Malfoy.

Malfoy smiled nastily.

"I think I'll leave it somewhere for Longbottom to find — how about — up a tree?"

"Give it _here_!" Harry yelled, but Malfoy had leapt onto his broomstick and taken off, and Elle noted how well he could fly. Hovering level with the topmost branches of an oak he called, "Come and get it, Potter!"

Harry pulled away from Elle's grasp and grabbed his broom.

"_No!" _shouted Hermione. "Madam Hooch told us not to move — you'll get us all in trouble."

Harry ignored her and looked at Elle.

"I'm sure I'll need some help up there," Harry said with a soft smile.

"But I don't know how to fly," Elle said.

"Neither do I, but it can't be too hard, right?"

"Well, if you say so," Elle said, feeling ever embolden by Harry — he always made her feel braver.

"Let's go."

"Elle, you're going to get in trouble!" exclaimed Hermione. "You'll get _killed_!"

"I'll be _fine_, Hermione."

Elle and Harry mounted their brooms and kicked hard against the ground and up, up they soared; air rushed through Elle's hair, and her robes whipped out behind her and she let out a joyful laugh — and in a rush of fierce joy she realized she'd found something she could do without being taught — this was easy, this was _wonderful_. She pulled her broomstick up a little to take it even higher, and Harry did the same. They heard screams and gasps of girls back on the ground and an admiring whoop from Ron and Seamus. Elle thought she heard Hermione cheering, but she couldn't be sure.

They turned their broomsticks sharply to face Malfoy in midair. Malfoy looked stunned.

"What, too scared to fight alone, Potter?" Malfoy taunted, trying to sound brave.

"Give it here," Harry called, "or I'll knock you off that broom!"

"Oh, yeah?" said Malfoy, trying to sneer, but looking worried.

"Stay here," Harry muttered to Elle.

Harry leaned forward and grasped the broom tightly in both hands, and it shot towards Malfoy like a javelin. Malfoy only just got out of the way in time and shot past Elle; both she and Harry made a sharp about face and she held the broom steady. A few people below were clapping.

"No Crabbe and Goyle up here to save your neck, Malfoy," Elle called out.

The same thought seemed to have struck Malfoy.

"Catch it if you can, then!" he shouted, and he threw the glass ball high into the air and streaked back towards the ground.

Harry watched the ball before leaning forward and pointing his broom handle down — next second he was gathering speed in a steep dive, racing the ball. Elle feared he would crash and took off after him. Harry stretched his hand out and caught the Remembrall before pulling his broom straight. Elle saw the broom shake and she urged her broom to go faster, pressing herself closer to the handle to help her gain speed. Within moments, Elle had caught up to Harry and she reached out, snatching Harry by his robes just as his broom took a nose dive. She pulled up hard on the handle of her broom and hoisted Harry onto the broom right as his own crashed into the ground.

"Thanks, Elle," he said as she headed towards the ground.

"No problem; you were right, about flying, I mean. It's really easy," she told him before landing on the ground.

She and Harry got off the broom and he held up the Remembrall to show everyone he caught it. Elle rolled her shoulder some — it was very sore after hoisting Harry onto her broom.

"Told you I'd need you up there," he grinned to her as they started walking toward the Gryffindors.

"You did pretty well by yourself right up until the end," Elle smiled.

"HARRY POTTER! ELEANOR RIDDLE!"

Elle's heart sank and by the look on his face, so did Harry's. Professor McGonagall was running towards them. Elle and Harry just stood there, trembling.

"_Never_ — in all my time at Hogwarts —"

Professor McGonagall was almost speechless with shock, and her glasses flashed furiously, "— how _dare_ you — might have broken your neck —"

"It wasn't their fault, Professor —"

"Be quiet, Miss Patil —"

"But Malfoy —"

"That's _enough_, Mr. Weasley. Potter, Riddle, follow me, now."

Elle caught sight of Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle's triumphant face as they left. When Malfoy met her eyes, however, he quit smiling and elbowed both Crabbe and Goyle, who quit smiling immediately. She continued walking numbly in Professor McGonagall's wake as she strode toward the castle. They were going to be expelled, she just knew it. Her mother and father were going to kill her — well, perhaps her mother. There was a chance her father would congratulate her on her apparent natural flying ability. But still, getting expelled from Hogwarts? Her heart was all ready racing at the thought of Dumbledore snapping her wand in two. Now she'd done it.

Up the front steps, up the marble staircase inside, and still Professor McGonagall didn't say a word to them. McGonagall wrenched open the doors and marched along the corridors with Harry and Elle trotting miserably behind her. She was probably taking them to Dumbledore. Elle would return home with her head hung low. How could she have done this?

Professor McGonagall stopped outside a classroom. She opened the door and poked her head inside.

"Excuse me, Professor Flitwick, could I borrow Wood for a moment?"

Wood? thought Elle, bewildered; was Wood a cane she was going to use on the two of them?

Wood turned out to be a burly fifth-year boy who came out of Flitwick's class looking confused. Elle saw he was wearing the robes of a Gryffindor and she guessed he was, in fact, the Wood who had signed the card.

"Follow me, you three," said Professor McGonagall, and they marched on up the corridor, Wood looking curiously at Harry and Elle.

"In here."

Professor McGonagall pointed them into a classroom that was empty except for Peeves, who was busy writing rude words on the blackboard.

"Out, Peeves!" she barked. Peeves threw the chalk into a bin, which clanged loudly, and he swooped out cursing. Professor McGonagall slammed the door shut behind him and turned to face the three students.

"Potter, Riddle, this is Oliver Wood. Wood — I've found you a Seeker and Chaser."

Wood's expression changed from puzzlement to delight.

"Are you serious, Professor?"

"Absolutely," said Professor McGonagall crisply. "They're naturals. I've never seen anything like it. Was that your first time on a broomstick, you two?"

"Yes ma'am," Elle said while Harry just nodded silently.

"Potter caught that thing in his hand after a fifty-foot dive," Professor McGonagall told Wood. "Didn't even scratch himself. Charlie Weasley couldn't have done that. Granted, the old broomstick he was using gave out, but you know how the school's brooms are, not very reliable nowadays."

Wood looked impressed.

"Riddle is extremely talented, too. She took a fifty-foot dive, caught Potter, and pulled straight up with ease; still carrying Potter, and managed to pull him onto her broom while maintaining control! It was perfect! If it weren't for the fact that we have you, I'd say she'd be perfect for a Keeper position. She probably wouldn't be a shabby Beater either with her arm, but we have the Weasley twins."

Now Oliver looked both impressed and extremely happy.

"Ever seen a game of Quidditch?" he asked excitedly.

"Wood's captain of the Gryffindor team," Professor McGonagall explained.

"He's just the build for a Seeker, too. Riddle, you're perfect!" said Wood, now walking around them. "Light — speedy — we'll have to get him a decent broom Professor — and you, Riddle — a Nimbus Two Thousand or a Cleansweep Seven, I'd say."

"I shall speak to Professor Dumbledore and see if we can't bend the first-year rule. Heaven knows, we need a better team than last year. _Flattened_ in that last match by Slytherin, I couldn't look Severus Snape in face for weeks . . ."

Professor McGonagall peered sternly over her glasses at Elle and Harry.

"I want to hear you two are training hard, or I may change my mind about punishing you."

Then she suddenly smiled.

"Your father would have been proud, Potter," she said. "And Miss Riddle, your mother would be beaming if she could see you now. They were excellent Quidditch players themselves."

"You're _joking_."

It was dinnertime. Harry and Elle had just finished telling Ron what had happened when they'd left the grounds with Professor McGonagall. Ron had a piece of steak and kidney pie halfway to his mouth, but he'd forgotten all about it.

"_Seeker and Chaser?" _he said. "But first years never — you must be the youngest House players in about —"

"— a century," Harry and Elle said in unison.

Elle shoveled some pie into her mouth and was tapped on the shoulder. She turned and came face to face with Seamus Finnigan — she had noticed he had been going out of his way to talk to her lately, and this was a prime example of that.

"So how much trouble are you in?" Seamus asked solemnly as he took the empty seat beside Elle.

"Surprisingly enough, none," Elle said with a soft smile.

"That's terri — wait — none?" he echoed, looking extremely shocked; that obviously wasn't the news he had been expecting.

"Yeah, none!"

"How?"

"Erm, well, Professor McGonagall decided to put me and Harry on the Quidditch Team," said Elle.

Seamus's jaw went slack, and he stared at Elle with wide eyes, not sure where to even begin. He stared at her for a few moments, and Elle was a bit worried that perhaps Seamus had completely tuned out of their conversation.

"Hello? Seamus?" Elle said, waving her hand in front of his face.

Seamus blinked and shook his head, as if shaking himself out of a daze

"Sorry," Seamus said, looking a bit embarrassed, "but are you _really_ on the team?"

"Mhmm! They're putting me on as a Chaser and Harry's the Seeker," said Elle. "Only don't tell anyone, Wood wants to keep it a secret. But we start training next week."

"That's amazing! I can't believe it!" Seamus said. "There's no way I'm going to miss a game — I'll always be there to cheer for you!"

Elle's face turned a light shade of pink — Seamus was going to come just to cheer for her? She smiled sheepishly, obviously a bit flustered, but before she could find the words to say, Seamus's face suddenly fell.

"Great, look who just showed up," Seamus sighed.

Elle turned and saw why he said that. Coming straight towards them was Malfoy, flanked by Crabbe and Goyle.

"Having a last meal, Potter? When are you getting the train back to the Muggles?"

Elle may have been seeing things, but she could've sworn Malfoy gave her a sympathetic look before placing the scowl back on his face and looking at Harry.

"You're a lot braver now that you're back on the ground and you've got your little friends with you," said Harry coolly.

Elle couldn't help but think that there was nothing at all little about Crabbe and Goyle, but she knew that, since the High Table was full of teachers, neither of them could do more than crack their knuckles and scowl, and Harry must have also realized this.

"I'd take you on anytime on my own," said Malfoy. "Tonight, if you want. Wizard's duel. Wands only — no contact. What's the matter? Never heard of a wizard's duel before, I suppose?"

"Of course he has," said Elle boldly, wheeling around. "I'm his second, who's yours?"

Malfoy looked a bit astonished that Elle would offer herself up like that, and then looked at Crabbe and Goyle, sizing them up.

"Crabbe," he said. "Midnight all right? We'll meet you in the trophy room; that's always unlocked."

Malfoy looked at Elle, frowning some but said nothing before he walked off, Crabbe and Goyle following loyally behind him.

"Elle," Seamus said incredulously. "Did you really just offer yourself up like that? You're going to partake in a wizard's duel?"

Elle opened her mouth to protest, but Harry spoke.

"What _is_ a wizard's duel?" said Harry. "And what do you mean, you're my second?"

"Well, a second's there to take over if you die," said Elle casually, getting started at last on her cold pie.

_"Die?"_ Harry hissed.

"Eh, don't worry about that," said Ron. "People only die in proper duels, you know, with real wizards. The most you and Malfoy'll be able to do if send sparks at each other. Neither of you knows enough magic to do any really damage. I bet he expected you to refuse, anyway."

"And what if I wave my wand and nothing happens?"

"Throw it away and punch him on the nose," Ron suggested.

"Excuse me."

They looked up. It was Hermione.

"Can't a person eat in peace in this place?" said Ron.

Hermione ignored him and spoke to Harry.

"I couldn't help overhearing what you and Malfoy were saying —"

"Bet you could," Ron muttered.

"— and you _mustn't_ go wandering around the school at night. Think of the points you'll lose Gryffindor if you're caught, and you're bound to be. It's really very selfish of you."

"And it's really none of your business," said Harry.

"Good-bye," said Ron.

"Boys," Hermione sighed, shaking her head. She then looked at Elle expectantly. "Well, I know you won't be going, right, Elle?"

Elle looked at Hermione with a raised eye brow. "And why would you think that? After all, I'm Harry's second."

Hermione's eyes widened some and she scowled before turning on her heel and walking away.

"Honestly, Elle, how can you share a _dorm_ with her? I can barely sharing the same air as her," said Ron.

"She's not as bad as you think," said Elle. "She's just a little rough around the edges."

"A little rough?" scoffed Ron. "More like jagged."

That night, Elle was lying awake in her room, waiting for eleven thirty to come. That was the designated time she, Harry, and Ron would meet. She was working on all the assignments she missed, and it was a lot. Especially for Potions. Snape assigned two essays, each at least two rolls of parchment each, along with tons of book work. All the work was due tomorrow. She was beginning to think about skipping the duel.

Half-past eleven came, and Elle knew she had to get going. She was a bit concerned though — while Lavender, Parvati, and Eloise were all asleep, but Hermione's bed was completely empty. Elle hadn't seen her since dinner that evening. However, Elle knew that she couldn't worry about it at that moment, and she pulled on her bathrobes, picked up her wand, and crept across the tower room, down the spiral staircase, and into the Gryffindor common room. Just as Elle made it off the last step, she saw Harry and Ron also make it down the stairs into the common room.

"There you are," Ron said with a grin. "Told you she'd come, Harry."

Elle's eyes widened some, and she looked to Harry. "You thought I was going to back out?"

"I didn't think you were as stupid as us," Harry said sheepishly.

Elle giggled quietly, and the three of them looked around the common room. A few embers were still glowing in the fireplace, turning all the armchairs into hunches black shadows. They had almost reached the portrait hole when a voice spoke from the chair nearest them, "I can't believe you're going to do this."

A lamp flickered on. It was Hermione, wearing a pink bathrobe and a frown.

_"You!" _said Ron furiously. "Go back to bed!"

"I almost told you're brother," Hermione snapped, "Percy — he's a prefect, he'd put a stop to this."

Elle frowned some — why was Hermione so interfering?

Harry rolled his eyes and grabbed Elle's hand.

"Come on," he said to Ron. He pushed open the portrait of the Fat Lady and climbed through the hole, dragging Elle with him.

Hermione wasn't going to give up easily though. She followed Ron portrait hole, hissing at them like an angry goose.

"Don't you _care_ about Gryffindor, do you _only_ care about yourselves, _I_ don't want Slytherin to win the House Cup, and you'll lose all the points I got from Professor McGonagall for knowing about Switching Spells."

"Go away."

"All right, but I warned you, you just remember what I said when you're on the train home tomorrow, you're so —"

But what they were, they didn't find out. Hermione had turned to the portrait of the Fat Lady to get back inside and found herself facing an empty painting. The Fat Lady had gone on a nighttime visit and Hermione was locked out of Gryffindor Tower.

"Now what am I going to do?" she asked shrilly.

"That's your problem," said Ron.

"We've got to go, we're going to be late," Elle said to Harry, now the one who was pulling him along.

They hadn't even reached the end of the corridor when Hermione caught up with them.

"I'm coming with you," she said.

"You are not."

"D'you think I'm going to stand out here and wait for Filch to catch me? If he finds all four of us I'll tell him the truth, that I was trying to stop you, and you can back me up."

"You've got some nerve —" said Ron loudly.

"Shut up, both of you!" said Elle sharply, coming to a halt.

"I heard something," Harry muttered — he was right.

It was a sort of snuffling.

"Mrs. Norris?" breathed Ron, squinting through the dark.

It wasn't Mrs. Norris. It was Neville. He was curled up on the floor, fast asleep, but jerked suddenly awake as they crept nearer.

"Thank goodness you found me! I've been out here for hours, I couldn't remember the new password to get in to bed."

"Keep your voice down, Neville. The password's 'Pig snout' but it won't help you now, the Fat Lady's gone off somewhere," Elle said.

"How's your arm?" said Harry.

"Fine," said Neville, showing them. "Madam Pomfrey mended it in about a minute."

Ron nodded vaguely, pretending to be interested. "Good — well, look, Neville, we've got to be somewhere, we'll see you later —"

"Don't leave me!" said Neville, scrambling to his feet, "I don't want to stay here alone, the Bloody Baron's been past twice already."

Ron looked at his watch and then glared furiously at Hermione and Neville.

"If either of you get us caught, I'll never rest until I've learned that Curse of the Bogies Quirrell told us about, and used it on you."

Hermione opened her mouth, perhaps to tell Ron exactly how to use the Curse of the Bogies, but Harry hissed at her to be quiet and he and Elle beckoned them all forward.

They flitted along corridors striped with bars of moonlight from the high windows. At every turn Elle expected to run into Filch or Mrs. Norris, but they were lucky. They sped up a staircase to the third floor and tiptoed toward the trophy room.

Malfoy and Crabbe weren't there yet. The crystal trophy cases glimmered where the moonlight caught them. Cups, shields, plates, and statues winked silver and gold in the darkness. They edged along the walls, keeping their eyes on the doors at either end of the room. Elle noticed Harry take out his wand.

"What are you doing?" Elle whispered. "No one's here."

"But what if Malfoy comes here and starts attack immediately," reasoned Harry. "I've got to be ready."

Elle supposed he did have a point. The minutes crept by.

"He's late, maybe he's chickened out," Ron whispered.

Then a noise in the next room made them jump. Harry had only just raised his wand when they heard someone speak — and it wasn't Malfoy.

"Sniff around, my sweet, they might be lurking in a corner."

It was Filch speaking to Mrs. Norris. Horror-struck, Harry grabbed Elle's hand tightly and waved madly at the other three to follow him as quickly as possible; they scurried silently toward the door, away from Filch's voice. Neville's robes had barely whipped round the corner when they heard Filch enter the trophy room.

"They're in here somewhere," they heard him mutter, "probably hiding."

"This way!" Harry mouthed to the others and, petrified, they began to creep down a long gallery full of suits of armor. They could hear Filch getting nearer. Neville suddenly let out a frightened squeak and broke into a run — he tripped, grabbed Ron around the waist, and the pair of them toppled right into a suit of armor.

The clanging and crashing were enough to wake the whole castle.

"RUN!" Harry yelled, and the five of them sprinted down the gallery, not looking back to see whether Filch was following — they swung around the doorpost and galloped down one corridor then another, Harry in the lead, without any idea where they were or where they were going — they ripped through a tapestry and found themselves in a hidden passageway, hurtled along it and came out near their Charms classroom, which they knew was miles from the trophy room.

"I think we've lost him," Harry panted, leaning against the cold wall and wiping his forehead. Neville was bent double, wheezing and spluttering.

"I — _told_ — you," Hermione gasped, clutching at the stitch in her chest, "I — told — you."

"No one _cares_ if you told us," Elle snapped, losing her patience with Hermione. "We've got bigger problems right now!"

"We've got to get back to Gryffindor Tower," said Ron, "quickly as possible."

"Malfoy tricked you," Hermione said to Harry. "You realize that, don't you? He was never going to meet you — Filch knew someone was going to be in the trophy room, Malfoy must have tipped him off."

Elle thought she was probably right, but she wasn't going to tell her that.

"Let's go," said Harry.

It wasn't going to be that simple. They hadn't gone more than a dozen paces when a doorknob rattled and something came shooting out of a classroom in front of them.

It was Peeves. He caught sight of them and gave a squeal of delight.

"Shut up, Peeves — please — you'll get us thrown out," Elle whispered quickly, her eyes wide.

Peeves cackled.

"Wandering around at midnight, Ickle Firsties? Tut, tut, tut. Naughty, naughty, you'll get caughty."

"Not if you don't give us away, Peeves, please," said Harry.

"Should tell Filch, I should," said Peeves in a saintly voice, but his eyes glittered wickedly. "It's for your own good, you know."

"Get out of the way," snapped Ron, taking a swipe at Peeves — this was a big mistake.

"STUDENTS OUT OF BED!" Peeves bellowed, "STUDENTS OUT OF BED DOWN THE CHARMS CORRIDOR!"

Ducking under Peeves, they ran for their lives, right to the end of the corridor where they slammed into a door — and it was locked.

"This is it!" Ron moaned, as they pushed helplessly at the door, "We're done for! This is the end!"

They could hear footsteps, Filch running as fast as he could toward Peeves's shouts.

"Oh, move over," Hermione snarled. She grabbed Harry's wand, tapped the lock, and whispered, _"Alohomora!"_

The lock clicked and the door swung open — they piled through it, shut it quickly, and pressed their ears against it, listening.

"Which way did they go, Peeves?" Filch was saying. "Quick, tell me."

"Say 'please.'"

"Don't mess with me, Peeves, now where did they go?"

"Shan't say nothing if you don't say please," said Peeves in his annoying singsong voice.

"All right — _please_."

"NOTHING! Ha haaa! Told you I wouldn't say nothing if you didn't say please! Ha ha! Haaaaaa!" And they heard the sound of Peeves whooshing away and Filch cursing in rage.

"He thinks this door is locked," Harry whispered.

"I think we'll be okay — get _off_, Neville!" For Neville had been tugging on the sleeve of Elle's bathrobe for the last minute._ "What?"_

Elle turned around — and saw, quite clearly, what. For a moment, she was sure she'd walked into a nightmare — this was too much, on top of everything that had happened so far.

They weren't in a room, as she had supposed. They were in a corridor. The forbidden corridor on the third floor. And now they knew why it was forbidden.

They were looking straight into the eyes of a monstrous dog, a dog that filled the whole space between ceiling and floor. It had three heads. Three pairs of rolling, mad eyes; three noses, twitching and quivering in their direction; three drooling mouths, saliva hanging in slippery ropes from yellowish fangs.

It was standing quite still, all six eyes staring at them, and Elle knew that the only reason they weren't already dead was that their sudden appearance had taken it by surprise, but it was quickly getting over that, there was no mistaking what those thunderous growls meant.

Elle saw Harry grope for the doorknob.

"Hurry," Elle squeaked. "Between Filch and death, I'd take Filch."

They fell backward — Harry slammed the door shut, and they ran, they almost flew, back down the corridor. Filch must have hurried off to look for them somewhere else, because they didn't see him anywhere, but they hardly cared — all they wanted to do was put as much space as possible between them and that monster. They didn't stop running until they reached the portrait of the Fat Lady on the seventh floor.

"Where on earth have you all been?" she asked, looking at their bathrobes hanging off their shoulders and their flushed, sweaty faces.

"Never mind that — pig snout, pig snout," panted Harry, and the portrait swung forward. They scrambled into the common room and collapsed, trembling, into armchairs.

It was a while before any of them said anything. Neville, indeed, looked as if he'd never speak again.

"What do they think they're doing, keeping a thing like that locked up in a school?" said Ron finally. "If any dog needs exercise, that one does."

Hermione had got both her breath and her bad temper back again.

"You don't use your eyes, any of you, do you?" she snapped. "Didn't you see what it was standing on?"

"The floor?" Harry suggested. "I wasn't looking at its feet, I was too busy with its heads."

"Maybe you didn't notice, but there were three of them," Elle added.

"No, _not_ the floor. It was standing on a trapdoor. It's obviously guarding something," said Hermione.

She stood up, glaring at them.

"I hope you're pleased with yourselves. We could all have been killed — or worse, expelled. Now, if you don't mind, I'm going to bed."

Ron stared after her, his mouth open.

"No, we don't mind," he said. "You'd think we dragged her along, wouldn't you?"

But Hermione had given Elle something else to think about as she climbed back into bed after Hermione. The dog was guarding something. . . . What had Hagrid said? Gringotts was the safest place in the world for something you wanted to hide — except perhaps Hogwarts.

It looked as though Elle had found out where the grubby little package from vault seven hundred and thirteen was.


	12. Chapter Eleven

Secret Relations

Chapter Eleven

Malfoy couldn't believe his eyes when he saw that Harry, Elle, and Ron were still at Hogwarts the next day, looking tired but perfectly cheerful. Indeed, but the next morning, the three of them thought that meeting the three-headed dog had been an excellent adventure, and they were quite keen to have another one. In the meantime, Harry had come to the same conclusion at Elle had — the package in vault seven hundred and thirteen had been moved to Hogwarts. So, the two of them filled Ron in about the package that seemed to have been moved from Gringotts to Hogwarts, and they spent a lot of time wondering what could possible need such heavy protection.

"It's either really valuable," said Ron.

"Or dangerous," suggested Elle.

"Or both," mused Harry.

But as all they knew for sure about the mysterious object was that it was about two inches long, they didn't have much chance of guessing what it was without further clues.

Neither Neville or Hermione showed the slightest interest in what lay underneath the dog and the trapdoor. All Neville cared about was never going near the dog again.

Hermione was now refusing to speak to Harry, Ron, and Elle, but she was such a bossy know-it-all that Harry and Ron saw this as an added bonus, but Elle was a bit disheartened — Hermione had started to grow on her. However all that aside, all Elle, Harry, and Ron really wanted now was a way of getting back at Malfoy, and to their great delight, just such a thing arrived in the mail about a week later.

As the owls flooded into the Great Hall as usual, everyone's attention was caught at once by two long, thin packages carried by six screech owls each. Elle was just as interested as everyone else to see what was in the large parcels, and was amazed when the owls soared down and dropped the packages right in front of her and Harry, knocking their food to the floor. They had hardly fluttered out of the way when another owl dropped a letter on top of their parcels.

They ripped open the letter first, which was lucky, because it said:

_DO NOT OPEN THE PARCEL AT THE TABLE._

_It contains your new Nimbus Two Thousand, but I don't want everybody knowing you've got a broomstick or they'll all want one. Oliver Wood will meet you tonight on the Quidditch field at seven o'clock for you first training session._

_Professor M. McGonagall_

Elle had difficultly hiding her glee and both she and Harry handed the note to Ron to read.

"A Nimbus Two Thousand!" Ron moaned enviously. "I've never even _touched _one."

They left the hall quickly, wanting to unwrap the broomsticks in private before their first class, but halfway across the entrance hall they found the way upstairs barred by Crabbe and Goyle. Malfoy seized the package from Harry and felt it before throwing it back to Harry. He did the same with Elle.

"That's a broomstick," he said, handing it back to Elle with a mixture of jealousy and spite on his face. "You'll be in for it this time, Potter, first years aren't allowed them."

Ron couldn't resist it.

"They're not any old broomsticks," he said, "they're Nimbus Two Thousands. What did you say you've got at home, Malfoy, a Comet Two Sixty?" Ron grinned at Harry and Elle. "Comets look flashy, but they're not in the same league as the Nimbus."

"What would you know about it, Weasley, you couldn't afford half the handle," Malfoy snapped back, "I suppose you and your brothers have to save up twig by twig."

Before Ron could answer, Professor Flitwick appeared at Malfoy's elbow.

"Not arguing, I hope, children?" he squeaked.

"Potter's been sent a broomstick, Professor," said Malfoy quickly.

"Yes, yes, that's right," said Professor Flitwick, beaming at Harry and Elle. "Professor McGonagall told me all about the special circumstances, you two. And what model is it?"

"A Nimbus Two Thousand, sir," said Harry, who looked like he was struggling not to laugh at the look of horror on Malfoy's face.

"And it's really thanks to Malfoy here that we've got them," Elle added.

Harry, Elle, and Ron headed upstairs, smothering their laughter at Malfoy's obvious rage and confusion.

"Well, it's true," Elle chortled as they reached the top of the marble staircase. "If he hadn't stolen Neville's Remembrall we wouldn't be on the team. . . ."

"So I suppose you think that's a reward for breaking the rules?" came an angry voice from just behind them. Hermione was stomping up the stairs, looking disapprovingly at the packages in Harry and Elle's hand.

"I thought you weren't speaking to us?" said Harry.

"Yes, don't stop now," said Ron, "it was doing us so much good."

Hermione looked at Elle as if expecting her to suddenly become enraged at Ron and Harry, but when she didn't, Hermione marched away with her nose in the air.

They reached the common room and hid their broomsticks before they were off to class. Along the way, Ron started to laugh.

"You know, Elle, I think Malfoy _likes _you," Ron laughed as they headed to Potions class.

"And why do you think that?" Elle asked with obvious disgust in her voice.

"Well, when he took Harry's broomstick, he threw it back to him. When he took yours though, he just handed back to you. He's always . . . gentle with you. It's odd."

"That doesn't mean he likes me, Ron, maybe he's just somewhat civilized around girls."

Harry laughed and muttered, "Doubt it."

Both Elle and Ron laughed at this as they walked down the stairs to Potions class.

"All I'm saying is he's always nice to you. I mean, when Professor Flitwick showed up, he didn't bother pointed out that _you_ had a broomstick," Ron shrugged. "Sounded to me like he was trying to protect you."

"Oh, shut up, Ron," Elle snapped, rolling her eyes. "He's just some stupid boy."

"All right, sorry," he muttered as the stepped into Snape's classroom.

Elle took her seat and jotted down notes as Snape droned on about Potions, but for once, she wasn't the least bit interested in what Snape had to say. Her mind kept wandering up to the dormitory where her new broomstick was lying under her bed, or straying off to the Quidditch field where she'd be learning to play that night. She bolted her dinner that evening without noticing what she was eating, and then rushed upstairs with Ron and Harry to unwrap the Nimbus Two Thousand at last. Elle brought her broomstick into Ron and Harry's dorm and their wait was over.

"Wow," Ron sighed, as the broomsticks rolled onto Harry's bed.

Even Elle, who knew nothing about the different brooms, thought it looked wonderful. Sleek and shiny, with a mahogany handle, it had a long tail of neat, straight twigs and Nimbus Two Thousand was written in gold near the top.

As seven o'clock drew nearer, Harry and Elle left the castle and set off in the dusk toward the Quidditch field. She'd never been inside the stadium before. Hundreds of seats were raised in stands around the field so that the spectators were high enough to see what was going on. At either end of the field were three golden poles with hoops on the end. Harry said they reminded him of the little plastic sticks Muggle children blew bubbles through, except they were fifty feet high.

Too eager to fly again to wait for Wood, Harry and Elle mounted their broomsticks and kicked off from the ground. What a feeling — they swooped in and out of the goalposts and then sped up and down the field, racing each other. The Nimbus Two Thousand turned wherever she wanted at her lightest touch.

"Hey, Potter, Riddle, come down!"

Oliver Wood had arrived. He was carrying a large wooden crate under his arm. Harry and Elle landed next to him.

"Very nice," said Wood, his eyes glinting. "I see what McGonagall meant . . . You two really are naturals. I'm just going to teach you two the rules this evening, then you'll be joining team practice three times a week."

He opened the crate. Inside were four different-sized balls.

"Right," said Wood. "Now Quidditch is easy enough to understand, even if it's not easy to play. There are seven players on each side. Three of them are called Chasers — that's you, Riddle."

"Three Chasers," Harry and Elle repeated, as Wood took out a bright red ball about the size of a soccer ball.

"This ball's called a Quaffle," said Wood. "The Chasers throw the Quaffle to each other and try and get it through one of the hoops to score a goal. Ten points every time the Quaffle goes through one of the hoops. Follow me?"

"The Chasers throw the Quaffle and put it through the hoops to score," they recited.

"So — that's sort of like basketball on broomsticks with six hoops, isn't it?" guess Harry.

"What's basketball?" said Wood curiously.

"Never mind," said Harry quickly.

"Now, there's another player on each side who's called the Keeper — I'm Keeper for Gryffindor. I have to fly around our hoops and stop the other team from scoring."

"Three Chasers, one Keeper," said Elle.

"And they play with the Quaffle," added Harry.

"Okay, got that. So what are they for?" Elle pointed at the three balls left inside the box.

"I'll show you now," said Wood. "Take this."

He handed both Harry and Elle a small club, a bit like a short baseball bat.

"I'm going to show you what Bludgers do," Wood said. "These two are the Bludgers."

He showed Harry and Elle two identical balls, jet black and slightly smaller than the red Quaffle. Elle noticed that they seemed to be straining to escape the straps holding them inside the box.

"Stand back," Wood warned them. He bent down and freed one of the Bludgers.

At once, the black ball rose high in the air and then pelted straight at Harry's face. Harry swung at it with the bat to stop it from breaking his nose, and sent it zigzagging away into the air — it zoomed around their heads and then shot at Elle. Elle took the bat and swung with all her might and made contact with the Bludger. It was sent flying towards the school and temporarily out of sight.

"Wow," Oliver muttered. "You've got a good arm, Riddle. You _would_ make a great Beater."

The sound of glass shattering was heard and Elle looked up and saw the Bludger had broken through one of the school's windows and was heading straight towards her. Wood pushed her out of the way and dived on top of it and managed to pin it to the ground.

"See?" Wood panted, forcing the struggling Bludger back into the crate and strapping it down safely. "The Bludgers rocket around, trying to knock players off their brooms. That's why you have two Beaters on each team — the Weasley twins are ours — it's their job to protect their side from the Bludger and try and knock them toward the other team. So — think you've got all that?"

"Three Chasers try and score with the Quaffle; the Keeper guards the goalposts —"

"— and the Beaters keep the Bludgers away from their team," Elle finished.

"Very good," said Wood.

"Er — have the Bludger ever killed anyone?" Harry asked.

"Never at Hogwarts. We've had a couple of broken jaws but nothing worse than that. Now, the last member of the team is the Seeker. That's you, Potter. And you don't have to worry about the Quaffle or the Bludgers —"

"— unless they crack my head open."

"Don't worry, the Weasleys are more than a match for the Bludgers — I mean, they're like a pair of human Bludgers themselves."

Wood reached into the crate and took out the fourth and last ball. Compared with the Quaffle and the Bludgers, it was tiny, about the size of a large walnut. It was bright gold and had little fluttering silver wings.

"_This," _said Wood, "is the Golden Snitch, and it's the most important ball of the lot. It's very hard to catch because it's so fast and difficult to see. It's the Seeker's job to catch it. You've got to weave in and out of the Chasers, Beaters, Bludgers, and Quaffle to get it before the other team's Seeker, because whichever Seeker catches the Snitch wins his team an extra hundred and fifty points, so they nearly always win. That's why Seekers get fouled so much. A game of Quidditch only ends when the Snitch is caught, so it can go on for ages — I think the record it three months, they had to keep bringing on substitutes so the players could get some sleep.

"Well, that's it — any questions?"

Harry and Elle shook their heads. Elle understood what she had to do all right, it was doing it that was going to be the problem.

"We won't practice with the Snitch yet," said Wood, carefully shutting it back inside the crate, "it's too dark, we might lose it. Let's try you out with a few of these.

He pulled a bag of ordinary golf balls out of his pocket and a few minutes later, he, Harry, and Elle were up in the air, Wood and Elle throwing the golf balls as hard as they could in every direction for Harry to catch.

Harry didn't miss a single one, and Wood was delighted. Next Harry and Elle were racing down the field, Harry trying to block Elle, and Elle trying to get the Quaffle past Wood, and to her surprise, she was actually scoring. After an hour, night had really fallen and they couldn't carry on.

"That Quidditch Cup'll have our name on it this year," said Wood happily as they trudged back up to the castle. "I wouldn't be surprised if you turned out better than Charlie Weasley, Potter, and he could have played for England if he hadn't gone off chasing dragons."

Perhaps it was because she was now so busy, what with Quidditch practice three evenings a week on top of all her homework, but Elle could hardly believe it when she realized that she's already been at Hogwarts two months. The castle felt a lot like home to her now. Her lessons, too, were becoming more and more interesting now that they had mastered the basics.

On Halloween morning they woke to the delicious smell of baking pumpkin wafting through the corridors. Even better, Professor Flitwick announced in Charms that he thought they were ready to start making objects fly, something they had been dying to try since they'd seen him make Neville's toad zoom around the classroom. Professor Flitwick put the class into pairs to practice. Much to Elle's displeasure, their Charms class was split with the Slytherins for the day (apparently, Professor Flitwick had a conflicting appointment), and Elle had been paired with Malfoy. Ron was paired with Hermione, and Harry was with Seamus.

"Now, don't forget that nice wrist movement we've been practicing!" squeaked Professor Flitwick, perched on top of his pile of books as usual. "Swish and flick, remember, swish and flick. And saying the magic words properly is very important, too — never forget Wizard Baruffio, who said 's' instead of 'f' and found himself on the floor with a buffalo on his chest."

Elle tried her best to get the feather to fly, but every time she got herself ready to say the words, Malfoy would distract her and ask a bunch of questions.

"So, how are the Quidditch lessons going?" Malfoy asked casually.

"Fine," Elle replied stiffly.

"Nervous about your first game?"

"No."

"I'm sure you'll —"

"Please stop talking," Elle snapped. Malfoy glared at her, returning back to his grouchy self.

"Stupid girl," he muttered, crossing his arms over his chest and rolling his eyes.

"Idiotic boy," she retorted.

Elle focused on their feather and said, _"Wingardium Leviosa!"_

There was a sudden flash next her as Seamus' feather burst into flames. Several hot ashes flew off their burning feather and landed on Elle and Malfoy's feather, and soon, both of their feathers were nothing more than two piles of ashes.

"Nice going, Finnigan!" snapped Malfoy.

"Leave him alone, Malfoy! He didn't mean to," Elle said.

"He made our feather turn to ash!"

"Like I said, he didn't mean to do it," said Elle, rolling her eyes at Malfoy.

"Sorry, Elle," Seamus muttered as they swept the ash into a dust pan.

"It's no problem, Seamus," she laughed, walking to the trash can with him. "Actually, I should probably say thank you for getting me away from Malfoy for a moment. He's driving me _nuts_."

Seamus smiled softly and the two of them laughed quietly before they returned back to their seats, and Elle heard Ron and Hermione talking —or perhaps it was more like arguing.

"_Wingardium Leviosa!" _Ron shouted, waving his long arms like a windmill.

"You're saying it wrong," Elle heard Hermione snap. "It's Win-_gar_-dium Levi-_o_-sa, make the 'gar' nice and long."

"You do it then, if you're so clever," Ron snarled.

Hermione rolled up the sleeves of her gown, flicked her wand, and said, _"Wingardium Leviosa!"_

Their feather rose off the desk and hovered about four feet above their heads.

"Oh, well, done!" cried Professor Flitwick, clapping. "Everyone see here, Miss Granger's done it!"

Ron was in a very bad mood by the end of the class.

"It's no wonder no one can stand her," he said to Harry and Elle as they pushed their way into the crowded corridor, "she's a nightmare, honestly."

Someone knocked into Harry and Elle as they hurried past them. It was Hermione. Elle caught a glimpse of her face — and was startled to see that she was in tears.

"Ron!" Elle gasped, punching him hard in the arm.

"Ouch!" Ron exclaimed, grabbing his arm. "Elle! What was that for?"

"You jerk!" she snapped.

"What?" Ron said.

"I think she heard you," said Harry.

"So?" said Ron, but he looked a bit uncomfortable. "She must've morticed she's got no friends."

"That's not true, Ron," Elle said, frowning some as she watched Hermione run off.

Then, without another word to the two boys, Elle hurried after Hermione. She followed Hermione to the girls' bathroom, where she had locked herself in a stall.

"Hermione," Elle called from the other side of the door. "Hermione, are you okay?"

"Leave me alone!" Hermione yelled, her voice cracking.

Elle glanced at the clock on the wall and saw their next class had already started. She sighed and leaned against the wall.

"Hermione, please come out," Elle said softly.

"I said _leave me alone_!"

"I'm not leaving until you come out."

They spent the entire afternoon in there with Elle trying her best to get Hermione to come out of the stall, but to no avail. At one point Parvati Patil came in but when she saw Elle and heard Hermione crying, she left in a hurry.

Hours passed and still Hermione refused to come out. Elle had resorted to sitting on the floor, leaning against the wall across from the stall Hermione had herself locked in. Looking at the clock, Elle saw the Halloween feast had already started and her stomach growled obnoxiously loud in the middle of dead silence. When she heard this, a small chuckle came from the stall Hermione had locked herself in.

"You're still in here, Elle?" Hermione called from the stall.

"I told you I wasn't going to leave until you come out," said Elle.

Silence followed this. Finally, Hermione spoke.

"Why . . . did you stay friends with them? I thought we were friends?" she finally said.

Elle sighed heavily. "Harry and Ron are my friends, too, Hermione. I can't just suddenly choose not to be friends with them. I've lived next door to Harry ever since I can remember. He was my first friend, and for a while, my only friend."

"Then why didn't you talk to me?"

"Because you were avoiding me — I couldn't have talked to you even if I tried."

More silence followed before the stall clicked open and Hermione stepped out, her eyes red and puffy and her cheeks stained with tears.

"I'm sorry, Elle," she said softly.

Elle stood up and she hugged Hermione. "I'm sorry, too."

The door of the girls' bathroom opened and the two girls stopped hugging and turned to check who had walked in. When they saw, both girls froze in their spot.

It was a terrible sight. A twelve foot tall troll, its skin a dull, granite gray, its great lumpy body like a boulder with its small bald head perched on top like a coconut was standing in the bathroom looking at both Hermione and Elle. It had short legs thick as tree trunks with flat, horny feet. The smell coming from it was incredible. It was holding a huge wooden club, which dragged along the floor because its arms were so long.

"Do you see the troll, too?" Elle asked Hermione, who was shrinking back against the wall.

"Yes," she squeaked.

"Splendid," sighed Elle following Hermione's lead.

They pressed against the wall and Hermione looked like she was about to faint.

"Elle, if we live, let's make a promise never to fight again," said Hermione.

"Deal. And if we live, let's make a promise never to hide in the bathroom all day ever again," Elle said.

"Deal."

The door to the bathroom opened again and Harry and Ron ran in. The troll advanced towards Hermione and Elle, knocking the sinks off the walls as it went.

"Elle!" Harry shouted when he saw her.

"Help us, Harry!" Elle cried.

"Confuse it!" Harry said desperately to Ron, and, seizing a tap that had come from one of the broken sinks, he threw it as hard as he could against the wall.

The troll stopped a few feet from the girls. It lumbered around, blinking stupidly, to see what had made the noise. Its mean little eyes saw Harry. It hesitated, then made for him instead, lifting its club as it went.

"Oy, pea-brain!" yelled Ron from the other side of the chamber, and he threw a metal pipe at it. The troll didn't even seem to notice the pipe hitting its shoulder, but it heard the yell and paused again, turning its ugly snout toward Ron instead, giving Harry time to run around it.

"Come on, run, _run_!" Harry yelled to them, trying to pull Hermione toward the door, but she couldn't move, she was still flat against the wall, her mouth open with terror. Elle wasn't going to leave Hermione there.

The shouting and the echoes seemed to be driving the troll berserk. It roared again and started toward Ron, who was nearest and had no way to escape.

Harry then did something that was both very brave and very stupid: He took a great running jump and managed to fasten his arm around the troll's neck from behind. The troll couldn't feel Harry hanging there, but even a troll will notice if you stick a long bit of wood up its nose, and Harry's wand had still been in his hand when he'd jumped — it had gone straight up one of the troll's nostrils.

Howling with pain, the troll twisted and flailed its club, with Harry clinging on for dear like; any second, the troll was going to rip him off or catch him a terrible blow with the club.

Elle stood up and pulled out her wand. _"Wingardium Levio —"_

The troll brought its club toward Elle and hit the right side of her body, sending her crashing into the door of a bathroom stall. Elle slumped to the ground, letting out a groan, her body throbbing. She couldn't think straight — the pain she was feeling was indescribable.

"_Elle!" _the three other students exclaimed.

"I'm fine," she said through gritted teeth, trying to ignore the pain. "Ron! Use the spell!"

"Got it!" Ron yelled back. He pulled out his wand and aimed it towards the troll. _"Wingardium Leviosa!"_

The club flew suddenly out of the troll's hand, rose high, high up into the air, turned slowly over — and dropped, with a sickening crack, onto its owner's head. The troll swayed on the spot and then fell flat on its face, with a thud that made the whole room tremble.

Harry got to his feet. He was shaking and out of breath. Ron was standing there with his wand still raised, staring at what he had just done.

It was Hermione who spoke first.

"Is it — dead?"

"I don't think so," said Harry, "I think it's just been knocked out."

He bent down and pulled his wand out of the troll's nose. It was covered in what looked like lumpy gray glue.

"Urgh — troll boogers."

He wiped it on the troll's trousers.

"It could've been worse," Ron said, trying to sound cheerful.

"Yeah, you could've been knocked out, or — Elle!"

Hermione ran over to Elle, who was struggling to get up.

"Are you okay, Elle?" Harry asked while he and Ron hurried over.

With Hermione's help, Elle was sitting up.

"Not really. I think something's broken — ouch!"

Hermione had grabbed Elle's right arm to try to pull her to her feet.

"Does it hurt?" Ron asked.

"No, she just said 'ouch' because it tickled," Hermione snapped.

A sudden slamming and loud footsteps made the four of them look up. They hadn't realized what a racket they had been making, but of course, someone downstairs must have heard the crashes and the troll's roars. A moment later, Professor McGonagall had come bursting into the room, closely followed by Snape, with Quirrell bringing up the rear. Quirrell took one look at the troll, let out a faint whimper, and sat quickly down on a toilet, clutching his heart.

Snape bent over the troll. Professor McGonagall was looking at Ron, Harry, and Elle. Elle had never seen her look so angry. Her lips were white and pressed in a thin line.

"What on earth were you thinking of?" said Professor McGonagall, with cold fury in her voice. Elle looked at Harry and Ron who were frozen in place, both of them crouched down in front of her. "You're lucky you weren't killed. Why aren't you in your dormitory?"

Snape gave Harry a swift, piercing look.

Then, a small voice came from beside Elle.

"Please, Professor McGonagall — they were looking for me."

"Miss Granger!"

"I went looking for the troll because I — I thought I could deal with it on my own — you know, because I've read all about them."

Ron dropped his wand on the floor, Harry's mouth hung open slightly, and Elle stared at her with wide eyes. Hermione Granger, telling a downright lie to a teacher?

"If they hadn't found me, I'd be dead now. Harry stuck his wand up its nose and Ron knocked it out with its own club. Elle was protecting me. They didn't have time to come and fetch anyone. It was about to finish me off with they arrived."

Harry, Ron, and Elle tried to looked as though this story wasn't new to them.

"Well — in that case . . ." said Professor McGonagall, staring at the four of them. "Miss Granger, you foolish girl, how could you think of tackling a mountain troll on your own?"

Hermione hung her head. Elle was speechless. Hermione was the last person to do anything against the rules, and here she was, pretending she had, to get them out of trouble. It was as if Snape had started handing out sweets.

"Miss Granger, five points will be taken from Gryffindor for this," said Professor McGonagall. "I'm very disappointed in you. If you're not hurt at all, you'd better get off to Gryffindor Tower. Students are finishing the feast in their Houses."

Hermione left.

Professor McGonagall turned to Harry, Ron, and Elle.

"Well, I still say you were lucky, but not many first years could have taken on a full-grown mountain troll. You each win Gryffindor five points. Professor Dumbledore will be informed of this. You may go."

Harry and Ron stood but Elle just sat there.

"Miss Riddle, I said you may go."

"I know, Professor, but I can't move," Elle said softly.

"What's wrong?" Professor McGonagall asked, pushing past Harry and Ron.

After inspecting Elle briefly she sighed. "I see. You've broken your arm and leg. Well, not to worry, Madam Pomfrey can mend bones easily. But what happened?"

"The troll got me with its club," Elle sighed.

"All right. Well, Potter, Weasley, go to your dorm. Snape, go inform Madam Pomfrey that I will be there soon with Miss Riddle."

"We'll bring you some food, Elle," Harry said before he and Ron left.

Elle soon found herself laying on a cot in the hospital wing.

"You're lucky it's just a few broken bones, Miss Riddle," said Madam Pomfrey, the school matron. "I'll have you healed up in no time — you'll need to stay the night though."

"That's fine," Elle replied sitting down on one of the beds in the hospital wing.

Madam Pomfrey pulled out her wand and touched the tip of it to Elle's arm. The tip of her wand flashed, and then a warm sensation began pulsating through Elle's arm, and all the pain suddenly vanished. Madam Pomfrey then did the same thing to Elle's legs, and within seconds, all her pain was gone.

"How do you feel?" said Madam Pomfrey.

"Much better," said Elle with a smile, stretching her arm and leg. "Thank you."

"Well, I suppose you can go back to Gryffindor Tower," said Madam Pomfrey, obviously please with her work. "If there's any pain in the morning though, don't hesitate to come back."

Elle nodded, and she was just about to stand from her bed when she hear someone call her name.

"Elle?"

Elle looked up and saw Hermione standing there, and behind her was Harry and Ron. They were all carrying a plate of food and drinks, and Elle noticed that Harry was balancing two very full plates of food.

"What are you all doing?" said Elle curiously.

"Well, we everyone was finishing the feast in the common room," started Hermione.

"But it didn't feel right with you," said Ron.

"So we decided to bring the feast to you," said Harry with a smile. Then he looked to Madam Pomfrey, his face falling some. "That is — if that's okay with you, Madam Pomfrey?"

Madam Pomfrey looked Elle and then her Harry, Ron, and Hermione, and she smiled ever so slightly.

"Well, since you're already here, I suppose it's alright," said Madam Pomfrey.

A wide smile spread across all four friend's faces, and Harry, Ron, and Hermione all settled down around Elle, Harry joining her on the bed, and Ron and Hermione sitting on the cot across from her.

"I tried to get all your favorites," Harry smiled, handing her a plate that was piled high with many different foods — pot roast, mashed potatoes, green beans, roasted chicken, pumpkin pasties — it all looked amazing.

"Thanks," Elle grinned, taking the plate happily and loading her fork with pot roast. "I'm starving."

"Understandable," Ron said, "you were in the bathroom all day."

"Sorry," Hermione said sheepishly.

The four of them all laughed softly and ate their fill, chatting happily as they ate. They talked about the troll, and how Harry's wand was still slimy with troll boogers. Ron even complimented Hermione on how she lied to Professor McGonagall, but in a hushed voice, of course, so Madam Pomfrey didn't overhear them. After their little feast the four of them shared came to an end, Madam Pomfrey stepped into the room.

"Okay, okay, it looks like you've all had your fill," she said with a smile. "I think it's time for you four of you to head back to Gryffindor Tower."

Elle glanced at the clock and was surprised to see it was past midnight_._

"Thank you for letting us have our feast here, Madam Pomfrey," Hermione said while she, Elle, Harry, and Ron stood up.

"You're very welcome. It's always nice to see the students have visitors. Now, here's a note in case you four are stopped by Filch," said Madam Pomfrey, handing Harry the note.

The four of them set off to the common room, and by the time they returned, they found that the Gryffindor common room was completely empty. The four of them all stood there for a brief moment, exchanged their good nights, and they all headed to bed, exhausted after that evenings events.

From the night on though, Hermione became an official friend of Ron and Harry's, and Elle couldn't be happier. She knew that there were some things you can't share without ending up liking each other, and knocking out a twelve-foot mountain troll was one of them.


	13. Chapter Twelve

Secret Relations

Chapter Twelve

As they entered November, the weather turned very cold. The mountains around the school became icy gray and the lake like chilled steel. Every morning the ground was covered in frost. Hagrid could be seen from the upstairs windows defrost broomsticks on the Quidditch field, bundled up in a long moleskin overcoat, rabbit fur gloves, and enormous beaverskin boots.

The Quidditch season had begun. Elle would be playing in her first match after weeks of training: Gryffindor versus Slytherin. If Gryffindor won, they would move into second place in the House Championship.

Hardly anyone had seen Harry and Elle play because Wood decided that, as their secret weapons, they should be kept, well, secret. But the news that Elle was playing Chaser and Harry was playing Seeker had leaked out somehow (Elle suspected Seamus was to blame), and they didn't know which was worse — people telling them they'd be brilliant or people telling them they'd be running around underneath them holding a mattress.

Hermione had become a bit more relaxed about breaking rules since Harry, Ron, and Elle had saved her form the mountain troll, and she was much nicer for it. The day before Harry and Elle's first Quidditch match the four of them were out in the freezing courtyard during break, and Hermione had conjured them up a bright blue fire that could be carried around in a jam jar. They were standing with their backs to it, getting warm, when Snape crossed the yard. Elle noticed at once that Snape was limping. Harry, Ron, Elle, and Hermione moved closer together to block the fire from view; they were sure it wouldn't be allowed. Unfortunately, something about their guilty faces caught Snape's eye. He limped over. He hadn't seen the fire, but he seemed to be looking for a reason to tell them off anyway.

"What's that you've got there, Potter?"

It was _Quidditch Through the Ages_. Harry showed him.

"Library books are not to be taken outside the school," said Snape. "Give it to me. Five points from Gryffindor."

"He's just made that rule up," Harry muttered angrily as Snape limped away. "Wonder what's wrong with his leg?"

"Dunno, but I hope it's really hurting him," said Ron bitterly.

The Gryffindor common room was very noisy that evening. Harry, Ron, Elle, and Hermione sat together next to a window. Hermione and Elle were checking Harry and Ron's Charms homework for them. Hermione forbade Elle to let Harry and Ron copy ("How will they learn?), but by asking Hermione and Elle to read through it, they got the right answers anyway.

Harry stood up and told Ron, Elle, and Hermione he was going to ask Snape for his book back.

"Better you than me," Hermione and Ron said together.

"I'll go with you," Elle said while standing up.

"Thanks," Harry smiled.

Harry and Elle made their way down to the staffroom and knocked. There was no answer. They knocked again. Nothing.

"Perhaps Snape had left the book in there?" Harry suggested.

"It's worth a try," shrugged Elle.

Harry pushed the door ajar and they peered inside — and a horrible scene met their eyes. Snape and Filch were inside, alone. Snape was holding his robes above his knees. One of his legs was bloody and mangled. Filch was handing Snape bandages.

"Blasted thing," Snape was saying. "How are you suppose to keep you eyes on all three heads at once?"

Harry and Elle tried to shut the door quietly, but —

"POTTER! RIDDLE!"

Snape's face was twisted with fury as he dropped his robes quickly to hide his leg. Elle shrunk away from the door.

"I just wondered if I could have my book back," Harry said softly.

"GET OUT! _OUT!_"

They quickly left, before Snape could take any more points from Gryffindor. They sprinted back upstairs.

"Did you get it?" Ron asked as Harry and Elle joined them. "What's the matter."

In a low whisper, the two told Ron and Hermione what they'd seen.

"You know what this means?" Harry finished breathlessly. "He tried to get past that three-headed dog at Halloween! That's where he was going when we saw him — he's after whatever it's guarding! And I'd bet my broomstick he let the troll in to make a diversion!"

Hermione's eyes were wide.

"No — he wouldn't," she said. "I know he's not very nice, but he wouldn't try and steal something Dumbledore was keeping safe."

"Honestly, Hermione, you think all teachers are saints or something," snapped Ron. "I'm with Elle and Harry. I wouldn't put anything past Snape. But what's he after? What's the dog guarding?"

Elle went to bed with her head buzzing with the same questions. She tried to empty her mind — she needed to sleep, she had to, she had her first Quidditch match in a few hours — but the expression on Snape's face when she and Harry had seen his leg wasn't easy to forget.

"Elle," Hermione said softly at the two girls laid in their bed, "do you think Snape's really after whatever the dog is guarding?"

Elle closed her eyes and was silent for a moment before she said, "Honestly, Hermione, I don't know what to think."

The next morning dawned very bright and cold. The Great Hall was fully of the delicious smell of fried sausages and the cheerful chatter of everyone looking forward to a good Quidditch match.

"You've got to eat some breakfast."

"I don't want anything."

"Me either."

"Just a bit of toast," wheedled Hermione.

"Neither of us are hungry."

Both Harry and Elle felt terrible. In an hour's time they'd be walking onto the field.

"You guys need your strength, 'specially you, Harry," said Seamus. "Seekers are always the ones who get clobbered by the other team. And trust me, Elle, Chasers aren't much safer."

"Thanks, Seamus," said Harry.

"Real comforting," Elle sighed, watching Seamus pile ketchup on his sausages.

By eleven o'clock the whole school seemed to be out in the stands around the Quidditch pitch. Many students had binoculars. The seats might be raised high in the air, but it was still difficult to see what was going on sometimes.

Ron and Hermione joined Neville, Seamus, and Dean the West Ham fan up in the top row. As a surprise for Harry, they had painted a large banner on one of the sheets Scabbers had ruined. It said _Potter for President_, and Dean, who was good at drawing, had done a large Gryffindor lion underneath. They did something very similar for Elle, except her banner read _Riddle Rules_. Then Hermione had performed a tricky little charm so that the paint on both banners flashed different colors.

Meanwhile, in the locker room, Elle, Harry, and the rest of the team were changing into their scarlet Quidditch robes (Slytherin would be playing in green).

Wood cleared his throat for silence.

"Okay, men," he said.

"And women," said Angelina Johnson, another Chaser.

"And women," Wood agreed. "This is it."

"The big one," said Fred Weasley.

"The one we've all been waiting for," said George.

"We know Oliver's speech by heart," Fred told Elle and Harry, "we were on the team last year."

"Shut up, you two," said Wood. "This is the best team Gryffindor's had in years. We're going to win. I know it."

He glared at them all as if to say, "Or else."

"Right. It's time. Good luck, all of you."

Elle followed Fred and George out of the locker room and, hoping her knees weren't going to give way, walked onto the field to loud cheers.

Madam Hooch was refereeing. She stood in the middle of the field waiting for the two teams, her broom in her hand.

"Now, I want a nice fair game, all of you," she said, once they were all gathered around her. Elle noticed that she seemed to be speaking particularly to the Slytherin Captain, Marcus Flint, a fifth year. Flint was eyeing Elle in a way that made her squirm uncomfortably. He looked like he was part troll, and he didn't look particularly intelligent.

"Mount your brooms, please."

Elle got on her broom, her heart now racing. She could faintly hear people chanting "Harry! Elle! Harry! Elle!" and she felt a little braver.

Madam Hooch gave a loud black on her silver whistle.

Fifteen brooms rose up, high, high into the hair. They were off.

Elle drove forward and quickly snatched the Quaffle and immediately sped off down the field towards the Slytherin goalposts.

From all around her came the voice of Lee Jordan as he did the commentary for the game.

"And the Quaffle is taken immediately by Elle Riddle of Gryffindor — what an excellent Chaser that girl has turned out to be, and rather attractive, for a first year —"

"JORDAN!"

"Sorry, Professor."

Even though Jordan was allowed to do the commentary, Professor McGonagall though it'd be best to keep a close eye on him.

"And she's really belting along up there."

A Bludger headed straight for Elle's head, but George Weasley sped right next to her and hit it back at the Beater who sent it towards her.

"Gotta watch out for those," George laughed, nudging Elle's arm and speeding off. Alicia Spinnet came up beside her.

"Here, let me have it!" she yelled.

Elle nodded and passed it to Alicia. Then Angelina Johnson sped by.

"Get back towards the Gryffindor goalposts in case Slytherin gets the Quaffle," she said quickly.

"Right!"

Elle quickly flew back towards Wood when she heard Jordan say, "A good pass to Johnson and — no, the Slytherins have taken the Quaffle, Slytherin Captain Marcus Flint gains the Quaffle and off he goes!"

Marcus Flint was coming right at Elle, and she gathered all the courage she could muster and headed right at Flint. He only smiled and veered to the side a little. As he passed Elle, he rammed hard into her, causing her broom to shake violently. Elle grabbed her broom tightly, quickly steadying her broom.

Jordan's voice filled Elle's ears.

"Flint's going to sc — no, stopped by an excellent move by Gryffindor Keeper Wood and the Gryffindor Chaser Angelina Johnson takes the Quaffle!"

"Riddle!" someone shouted.

Elle turned just in time to see Angelina chuck the Quaffle at her. Elle caught it and sped off in the direction of the Slytherin goalposts once again — her heart was racing. As she flew, two Slytherin Chasers — Marcus Flint and Adrian Pucey — got on either side of her and were slowly closing in. It was getting extremely hard to fly.

"Oy! Incoming!" the Weasley twins shouted suddenly from above the three Chasers. Elle looked up and saw them hit two Bludgers right at the Flint and Pucey.

The two Slytherin Chasers peeled away from Elle as the Bludgers belted towards them, and this allowed Elle to speed up. She brought herself closer to her broom handle, pushing her broom to go faster. The Slytherin Keeper, Bletchley, was waiting for her. Elle lifted her arm and pitched the Quaffle towards the goalpost to the far left, and Bletchley dove for it and — he missed. The Quaffle went through.

The crowd began cheering wildly and Jordan bellowed, "GRYFFINDOR SCORES!"

Gryffindor cheers filled the cold air, with howls and moans from the Slytherins.

Adrian Pucey got ahold of the of the Quaffle and went streaking towards the Gryffindor goal posts, and Elle shelled around and followed him, her Nimbus Two Thousand keeping up with him with ease.

"Slytherin in possession," Lee Jordan was saying, "Chaser Pucey ducked two Bludgers, two Weasleys, and Chaser Spinnet, and speeds towards the Gryffindor goalposts, Riddle hot in pursuit — wit a moment — was that the Snitch?"

A murmur ran through the crowd as Adrian Pucey dropped the Quaffle, too busy looking over his shoulder at the flash of gold that had passed his left ear.

Harry saw it. In a great rush, he dived downward after the streak of gold. Slytherins Seeker Terence Higgs had seen it, too. Neck and neck they hurtled toward the Snitch — all the Chasers, Elle included, seemed to have forgotten what they were supposed to be doing as they hung in midair to watch.

Harry was fast than Hiss, and he was closing in on the Snitch, his hand outstretched. This was it — Gryffindor was going to win, Elle could practically taste the victory —

WHAM! A roar of rage echoed from the Gryffindors below and the three Gryffindor Chasers on the field — Marcus Flint had blocked Harry on purpose, and Harry's broom spun off course, Harry holding on for dear life.

"Flour!" screamed the Gryffindor, Elle perhaps the loudest of those who shouted.

Madam Hooch spoke angrily to Flint and then ordered a free shot at the goalposts for Gryffindor. But in all the confusion, of course, the Golden Snitch had disappeared from sight again.

Lee Jordan was finding it difficult not to take sides.

"So — after that obvious and disgusting bit of cheating —"

"Jordan!" growled Professor McGonagall.

"I mean, after that open and revolting foul —"

"Jordan, I'm warning you —"

"All right, all right. Flint nearly kills the Gryffindor Seeker, which could happen to anyone, I'm sure, so a penalty to Gryffindor, taken by Spinnet, who puts it away, no trouble, and we continue play, Gryffindor still in possession."

Elle watched as Harry dodged another Bludger, which went spinning dangerously past his head, that something off happened. His broom gave a sudden, frightening lurch. For a split second, Elle thought he was going to fall. He gripped the broom tightly with both his hands and knees, managing to stay on.

It happened again. It was as though the broom was trying to buck him off. But Nimbus Two Thousands did not suddenly decide to buck their riders off. His broom was zigzagging through the air, and every now and then it made violent swishing movements that almost unseated him.

Lee was still commentating.

"Slytherin in possession — Flint with the Quaffle — passes Spinnet — passes Bell — hit hard in the face by a Bludger, hope it broke his nose — only joking, Professor — Slytherins score — oh no . . ."

The Slytherins were cheering. No one except for Elle seemed to have noticed that Harry's broom was behaving strangely. It was carrying him slowly higher, away from the game, jerking and twitching as it went.

"Wood!" Elle shouted to her Quidditch Captain. "Something is wrong with Harry's broom!"

"What?" Wood called out, obviously frustrated that Slytherin had just scored.

He looked to where Elle was pointing and saw exactly what she was talking about. Suddenly, people were pointing up at Harry all over the stands. His broom had started to roll over and over, with him only just managing to hold on. Then the whole crowd gasped. Harry's broom had given a wild jerk and Harry swung off it. He was now dangling from it with only one hand.

Elle flew towards Harry, determined to help her friend. However, when she got close, the broom jumped higher.

"We got it, Elle!" called Fred Weasley as he and George flew towards her.

"We'll get Harry onto one of our brooms," said George.

"No, wait, you two don't understand!" Elle called out, trying to stop them.

But the Weasley twins went after him, but, just like with Elle, every time they got near him, the broom would jump higher still.

"Will you two knock it off?" Elle shouted. "You're putting him in more danger by making his broom go so high!"

The twins nodded and they dropped lower and circled beneath him, obviously hoping to catch him if he fell. Marcus Flint seized the Quaffle and scored five times without anyone noticing.

The seconds ticked by, and Elle anxiously watched Harry, hoping he could hold on long enough for his broom to straighten out. But then, quite suddenly Harry's broom stopped jerking around, and Harry was able to clamber back on it.

"Harry!" Elle exclaimed, nearly being brought to tears from relief.

However, Harry didn't bother celebrating — he was speeding toward the ground when the crowd saw him clap his hand to his mouth as though he was about to be sick — he hit the field on all fours — coughed — and something gold fell into his hand.

"I've got the Snitch!" he shouted, waving it above his head, and the game ended in complete confusion.

"He didn't catch it, he nearly swallowed it," Flint was still howling twenty minutes later, but it made no difference — Harry hadn't broken any rules and Lee Jordan was still happily shouting the results — Gryffindor had won by one hundred and seventy points to sixty. Elle and Harry heard none of this, though. He was being made a cup of strong tea back in Hagrid's hut, with Ron and Hermione. Hagrid also made Elle a cup — she was still nearly in tears from watching Harry dangle like that up in the air for so long.

"It was Snape," Ron was explaining, "Hermione and I saw him. He was cursing your broomstick, muttering, he wouldn't take his eyes off you."

"Rubbish," said Hagrid, who hadn't heard a word of what had gone on next to him in the stands. "Why would Snape do somethin' like that?"

Harry, Elle, Ron, and Hermione looked at one another, wondering what to tell him. Elle and Harry decided on the truth.

"We found out something about him," Elle told Hagrid. "He tried to get past that three-headed dog on Halloween."

Harry nodded and added, "It bit him. We think he was trying to steal whatever it's guarding."

Hagrid dropped the teapot.

"How do you know about Fluffy?" he said.

_"Fluffy?"_

"Yeah — he's mine — bought him off a Greek chappie I met in the pub las' year — I lent him to Dumbledore to guard the —"

"Yes?" said Harry eagerly.

"Now, don't ask me anymore," said Hagrid gruffly. "That's top secret, that is."

"But Snape's trying to steal it," Elle huffed.

"Rubbish," said Hagrid again. "Snape's a Hogwarts teacher, he'd do nothin' of the sort."

"So why did he just try and kill Harry?" cried Hermione.

The afternoon's events certainly seemed to have changed her mind about Snape.

"I know a jinx when I see one, Hagrid, I've read all about them! You've got to keep eye contact, and Snape wasn't blinking at all, I saw him!"

"I'm tellin' yeh, yer wrong!" said Hagrid hotly. "I don' know why Harry's broom acted like that, but Snape wouldn' try an' kill a student! Now, listen to me, all three of yeh — yer meddlin' in things that don' concern yeh. It's dangerous. You forget that dog, an' you forget what it's guardin', that's between Professor Dumbledore an' Nicolas Flamel —"

"Aha!" said Harry, "so there's someone called Nicolas Flamel involved, is there?"

Hagrid looked furious with himself.


	14. Chapter Thirteen

Secret Relations

Chapter Thirteen

Christmas was coming. One morning in mid-December, Hogwarts woke to find itself covered in several feet of snow. The lake froze solid and the Weasley twins were punished for bewitching several snowballs so that they followed Quirrell around, bouncing off the back of his turban. The few owls that managed to battle their way through the stormy sky to deliver mail had to be nursed back to health by Hagrid before they could fly off again.

No one could wait for the holidays to start. While the Gryffindor common room and the Great Hall had roaring fires, the drafty corridors had become icy and a bitter wind rattled the windows in the classrooms. Worst of all were Professor Snape's classes down in the dungeons, where their breath rose in a mist before them and they kept as close as possible to their hot cauldrons.

"I do feel so sorry," said Draco Malfoy, one Potions class, "for all those people who have to stay at Hogwarts for Christmas because they're not wanted at home."

He was looking over at Harry as he spoke. Crabbe and Goyle chuckled. Harry, who was measuring out powdered spine of lionfish, ignored them. Elle, however, wasn't as good at ignoring them as Harry was.

"Personally, I can't wait to stay here," said Elle. "It wouldn't be Christmas without you, Harry."

Malfoy's jaw clenched some when Elle spoke. He had been even more unpleasant than usual since the Quidditch match. Disgusted that the Slytherins had lost, he had tried to get everyone laughing at how a wide-mouthed tree frog would be replacing Harry as Seeker next. Then he'd realized that nobody found this funny, because they were all so impressed at the way Harry had managed to stay on his bucking broomstick. So Malfoy, jealous and angry, had gone back to taunting Harry about having no proper family.

It was true that Harry wasn't going back to Privet Drive for Christmas. Professor McGonagall had come around the week before, making a list of students who would be staying for the holidays, and Harry had signed up at once. Ron and his brothers were staying, too, because Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were going to Romania to visit Charlie. Elle was also staying since Mr. and Mrs. Chadwick said it was busier than ever at the Ministry with the break-in at Gringrotts still not being solved, and they wanted Elle to make her choice — they offered to have Harry and Ron come stay at their house if Elle so wanted, but Elle decided that Christmas at Hogwarts sounded like the way to go. Hermione, however, was heading home for the holidays.

When the four friends left the dungeons at the end of Potions, they found a large fir tree blocking the corridor ahead. Two enormous feet sticking out at the bottom and a loud puffing sound told them that Hagrid was behind it.

"Hi, Hagrid, want any help?" Ron asked, sticking his head through the branches.

"Nah, I'm all right, thanks, Ron."

"Would you mind moving out of the way?" came Malfoy's cold drawl from behind them. "Are you trying to earn some extra money, Weasley? Hoping to be gamekeeper yourself when you leave Hogwarts, I suppose — that hut of Hagrid's must seem like a palace compared to what your family's used to."

Ron dived at Malfoy just as Snape came up the stairs.

"WEASLEY!"

Ron let go of the front of Malfoy's robes.

"He was provoked, Professor Snape," said Hagrid, sticking his huge hairy face out from behind the tree. "Malfoy was insultin' his family."

"Be that as it may, fighting is against Hogwarts rules, Hagrid," said Snape silkily. "Five points from Gryffindor, Weasley, and be grateful it isn't more. Move along, all of you."

Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle pushed roughly past the tree, scattering needles everywhere and smirking.

"I'll get him," said Ron, grinding his teeth at Malfoy's back, "one of these days, I'll get him —"

"I hate them both," said Harry, "Malfoy and Snape."

"Come on, cheer up, it's nearly Christmas," said Elle, nudging Harry encouragingly.

Hagrid smiled. "Tell yeh what, come with me an' see the Great Hall, looks a treat."

So the four of them followed Hagrid and his tree off to the Great Hall, where Professor McGonagall and Professor Flitwick were busy with the Christmas decorations.

"Ah, Hagrid, the last tree — put it in the far corner, would you?"

The hall looked spectacular. Festoons of holly and mistletoe hung all around the walls, and no less than twelve towering Christmas trees stood around the room, some sparkling with tiny icicles, some glittering with hundreds of candles.

"How many days you got left until yer holidays?" Hagrid asked.

"Just one," said Hermione. "And that reminds me — Harry, Elle, Ron, we've got half an hour before lunch, we should be in the library."

"Oh yeah, you're right," said Ron, tearing his eyes away from Professor Flitwick, who had golden bubbles blossoming out of his wand and was trailing them over the branches of the new tree.

"The library?" said Hagrid, following them out of the hall. "Just before the holidays? Bit keen, aren't yeh?"

"Oh, we're not working," Harry told him brightly.

"Yeah, ever since you mentioned Nicolas Flamel we've been trying to find out who he is," said Elle.

"You _what_?" Hagrid looked shocked. "Listen here — I've told yeh — drop it. It's nothin' to you what that dog's guardin'."

"We just want to know who Nicolas Flamel is, that's all," said Hermione.

"Unless you'd like to tell us and save us the trouble?" Elle added.

"We must've been through hundreds of books already and we can't find him anywhere — just give us a hint — I know I've read his name somewhere," said Harry.

"I'm sayin' nothin'," said Hagrid flatly.

"Just have to find out for ourselves, then," said Ron, and they left Hagrid looking disgruntled and hurried off to the library.

They had indeed been searching books for Flamel's name ever since Hagrid had let it slip, because how else were they going to find out what Snape was trying to steal? The trouble was, it was very hard to know where to begin, not knowing what Flamel might have done to get himself into a book. He wasn't in _Great Wizards of the Twentieth Century_, or _Notable Magical Names of Our Time_; he was missing, too, from _Important Modern Magical Discoveries_, and _A Study of Recent Developments in Wizardry_. And then, of course, there was the sheer size of the library; tens of thousands of books; thousands of shelves; hundreds of narrow rows.

Hermione took out a list of subjects and titles she had decided to search while Ron strode off down a row of books and started pulling them off the shelves at random. Harry and Elle wandered over to the Restricted Section. They had been wondering for a while if Flamel wasn't somewhere in there. Unfortunately, you needed a specially signed note from one of the teachers to look in any of the restricted books.

"You know we'll never get one," said Elle when Harry mentioned getting a note. "Those books contain powerful Dark Magic that Hogwarts would never teach — only older students studying advanced Defense Against the Dark Arts could get in there.

"I know," Harry muttered as the two of them looked longingly at the Restricted Section.

"What are you two looking for?"

"Nothing," said Harry quickly.

Madam Pince the librarian brandished a feather duster at them.

"You two better get out, then. Go on — out!"

Wishing they'd been a bit quicker at thinking up some story, Harry and Elle left the library. Elle, Harry, Ron, and Hermione had already agreed they'd better not ask Madam Pince where they could find Flamel. They were sure she'd be able to tell them, but they couldn't risk Snape hearing what they were up to.

Harry and Elle waited outside in the corridor to see if the other two had found anything, but neither of them were very hopeful. They had been looking for two weeks, after all, but as they only had odd moments between lessons it wasn't surprising they'd found nothing. What they really needed was a nice long search without Madam Pince breathing down their necks.

Five minutes later, Ron and Hermione joined him, shaking their heads. They went off to lunch.

"You will keep looking while I'm away, won't you?" said Hermione. "And send me an owl if you find anything."

"And you could ask your parents if they know who Flamel is," said Ron. "It'd be safe to ask them."

"Very safe, as they're both dentists," said Hermione.

At lunch, the four friends sat together, talking quietly about what in the world Nicolas Flamel had done to get himself in a book.

"I've seen that name somewhere," Elle said, shaking her head. "But I don't know where."

"I've been thinking the same thing," said Harry.

"Stop talking, you two," Hermione said quickly to her friends.

Elle and Harry were both curious why, but Elle soon knew why Hermione had told them to stop talking — Seamus had walked up to them and took a seat beside Elle.

"Hiya, Elle," Seamus said cheerfully as he sat down.

"Oh, hey, Seamus," Elle said with a smile as she turned towards him.

"Hey, guys," Seamus added, barely glancing to Harry, Ron, and Hermione. He then looked back to Elle, still smiling.

"So, are you going home for the holidays?" Seamus asked Elle curiously.

Elle smiled softy and shook her head.

"No, I'm staying here — my parents have been really busy helping with the break-in at Hogwarts," she said. "What about you — are you heading home?"

"My parents want to go to France to visit me aunt," said Seamus, shaking his head some. "She just moved there with me cousin Fergus, so mum wants to go pay them a visit."

"Well, France should still be fun," Elle said with an encouraging smile.

"I suppose," said Seamus.

"Aye, Seamus!" called Dean from several seats away.

Seamus turned and looked, seeing Dean waving him over, and a look of annoyance scored his face. Then he looked back to Elle.

"Oh, well, I guess I've got to go," said Seamus, standing from his seat. "You, er — I mean — h-have a great holiday, Elle. I-I'll see you when I get back."

The look on Seamus's face made Elle think that there was something he wanted to say something else, but he quickly walked towards his friend Dean before Elle could say anything. Elle shrugged it off though and looked back towards Harry, Ron, and Hermione.

"He's always so weird around you, Elle," said Ron.

"Of course he does," said Hermione with a smile. "I think he _fancies_ you, Elle."

"What?" said Elle, her face turning red — Seamus fancied her? "Why d-do you think that?"

"Yeah," said Harry quickly. "Why do you think that, Hermione?"

"He always goes out of his way to talk to her," said Hermione.

"That doesn't mean anything," said Elle, shaking her head, trying to force herself to stop blushing.

"Exactly," said Harry. "He likes her a normal amount."

Ron looked at Harry curiously. "Why does it matter to you, mate?"

Harry's eyes widened some, and Elle glanced at Harry curiously — why did it matter to Harry?

"I-It doesn't," said Harry quickly. "I-I just don't think that just because Seamus likes talking to Elle means he fancies her, that's all."

This was good enough for Ron and Elle, but Hermione, on the other hand, was smiling like she knew something. However, instead of saying anything, she simply shook her head, still smirking ever so slightly.

"I suppose you two are right," said Hermione with a shrug. "I guess I was wrong."

Elle nodded her head slightly and looked down at her plate, her lips curved slightly into a frown. For some reason, she was a bit bummed. Part of her had actually hoped Hermione was right. . . .

Once the holidays had started, Ron, Harry, and Elle were having too good a time to think much about Flamel. They had the dormitory to themselves and the common room was far emptier than usual, so they were able to get the good armchairs by the fire. They sat by the hour eating anything they could spear on a toasting fork — bread, English muffins, marshmallows — and plotting ways of getting Malfoy expelled, which were fun to talk about even if they didn't work.

While Ron taught Harry how to play wizards chess, Elle was spending her time practicing the Flipendo spell, otherwise known as the Knockback Jinx. However, it only took her a few days to get the hand of that, and she was growing rather bored— she wasn't very interested in wizard chess, and truth be told, she was still bothered about Nicolas Flamel. She knew that name — she knew she had seen it sometime recently, but for the life of her, Elle couldn't figure out where. There was no point in talking to Hagrid, because he refused to speak about the subject, which left Elle very few resources to ask. However, she wasn't keen on the idea of sitting around and doing nothing, so Elle decided it was time to take things into her own hands and take a chance, and she wandered down to the Potions classroom one morning.

Elle knocked on the door to the classroom, hoping that by chance Snape was in. Much to her surprise, a response came from within.

"Come in," Snape's voice droned.

As soon as she heard Snape's voice, Elle immediately regretted the decision to come here. But seeing as how he had already responded, Elle knew that there was no turning back now, and she slowly pushed the door open. Snape was sitting behind his desk, and he didn't look up from his work when Elle opened the door.

"Professor Snape," Elle said softly. "I-I don't mean to bother you."

"If you don't mean to bother me, then why are you here, Miss Riddle?" Snape said plainly, still looking at the papers on his desk.

Elle frowned some but help her tongue — if she wanted any chance of using Snape's classroom, and, better yet, finding out about Nicolas Flamel, she had to play along.

"I-I'm sorry, sir, but, I was hoping, seeing as how the holidays are in full swing and I've got nothing else to do. . . . Well, I was hoping you would allow me to get some extra practice in."

Snape paused and slowly he looked up from his desk, narrowing his eyes suspiciously at Elle.

"You expect me to believe that you're actually interested in bettering yourself in my class during your free time, Riddle?" Snape said coolly.

Elle, maintaining her compose, look a few timid steps into his classroom.

"Well, I would hope you do, sir — I've always found Potions very interesting, and I would like to be able to practice in my free time. The only problem is, I haven't got access to nearly half the things I need for the potions I'd like to try," said Elle.

Snape stared at Elle for a long moment, looking at her rather closely, as if he was trying to find any reason, no matter how small, to call her bluff. But Elle knew he wouldn't find one — despite her alternative motives, she was truly interested in Potions class.

Snape was silent for a moment, and then he eventually looked down at the papers on his desk.

"Fine," Snape said simply. "But no funny business. While you're in this classroom, you will be working, not slacking off — do I make myself clear?"

Elle, doing her best to suppress her smile, nodded and said, "Crystal."

And so, while Harry and Ron spent their days playing wizard chess and lounging about the castle, Elle was spending her time in the dungeons, working tirelessly in potions. She made several potions that Snape recommended she start with ("They're so simple, even _you_ couldn't possibly mess them up, Riddle," Snape said). Cure for Boils, Forgetfulness Potion, Herbicide Potion, Wiggenweld Potion, Antidote to Common Poisons, Pompion Potion — to just name a few. Within a few days, Elle had managed to work her way through nearly half the book — even Snape was impressed.

On Christmas Eve, Elle said goodnight to Harry and Ron and went to bed looking forward to the next day for the food and the fun. When she woke early in the morning, the first thing she saw was a small pile of packages at the foot on her bed. She smiled brightly and looked at Dubbie, was was laying next to Elle, sleeping peacefully.

"Dubbie, wake up!" Elle said excitedly. "It's Christmas."

Hastily stacking all her presents in a blanket and carrying it like a sack, Elle ran to Ron and Harry's room, Dubbie in tow, and joined the boys just as they had awoken to discovered their own gifts.

"Merry Christmas!" she exclaimed while placing her gifts on one of the beds. Seeing as how messy the bed was, Elle assumed it was Seamus'.

"Elle!" yelled Ron, his face beet red. "You shouldn't be in here! This is the _boy's_ dorm!"

"Oh, like it matters! No one else is here!"

They began to open up presents. From Hermione, Elle received a books of potions for more advanced students, along with ingredients she had never even heard of (she was extremely pleased with this gift). Seamus gave Elle a large pack of Chocolate Frogs (she had mentioned they were her favorite). Hagrid gave her a book full of information on magical creatures, and Harry and Ron got her lots of candy. From Mrs. Weasley, Elle got a purple knitted sweater, and Harry did too, but his was green. Ron let out a groan.

"Every year she makes us a sweater," said Ron, unwrapping his own, "and mine's always maroon."

"That's really nice of her," said Harry, trying a piece of fudge. Elle found a box of fudge from Mrs. Weasley and tried some, and she found it was very tasty.

Elle the opened her next gift, which came from her parents. They sent her a small figurine of a Gryffindor lion, which came to life at the sound of Elle's voice. To turn it back into a statue, all she needed to say was 'goodbye'. The had also sent a few things for Dubbie as well — a small cat bed, a few toys, even a collar. Mr. and Mrs. Chadwick also sent both Harry and Ron a Gryffindor lion statue like Elle's, and their lions responded to their own voices.

"These are so cool!" Ron said as his lion ran across the bed.

"I've never seen these," Harry said while petting his lion.

"I think Mrs. Chadwick made them," Elle replied while letting her lion run freely around the room, Dubbie following close behind it with much interest. "She's really good with charms."

They continued to open presents, and the next one Elle opened was from, surprisingly, Malfoy.

"I wouldn't open that if I were you," said Ron, "probably a stink bomb or something."

"Yeah, probably," shrugged Elle, but still, she opened it. Inside was a box of Chocolate Frogs. Elle, Harry, and Ron all looked at each other curiously.

"Chocolate Frogs?" said Harry.

"How'd he know I like these?" Elle said curiously.

"I dunno, he's a creepy guy. I'm sure he has his creepy ways of getting information," muttered Ron. "I wouldn't eat those though — bet you he poisoned them."

Elle laughed, but only half heartedly. She thought it was actually kind of . . . nice for Malfoy to do something like that, but still, Elle refused to forget how mean he always was to Harry.

Ron gasped, and Elle looked up, just in time to see something fluid and silvery gray went slithering to the floor after Harry opened his last present. It landed on the ground in a small pile, where it lay in gleaming folds — Elle's eyes widened some; she knew what that was.

"I've heard of those," Ron said in a hushed voice, dropping the box of Every Flavor Beans he'd gotten from Hermione. "If that's what I think it is — they're really rare, and _really_ valuable."

"What is it?"

"It's an Invisibility Cloak," Ron and Elle said in unison.

"I'm sure it is — try it on," said Ron, a look of awe on his face.

Harry threw the Cloak around his shoulders and Ron gave a yell. Harry's body was gone, and all that was left was his head, which was suspended in midair.

"It is! Look down!"

Harry went to the mirror and looked at his reflection before putting the Cloak over his head and he vanished completely.

"There's a note!" said Ron suddenly. "A note fell out of it!"

Harry pulled the Cloak off and began reading the note. After a moment he folded it up and Elle began wondering what it said.

"I'd give _anything_ for one of these," he said. "_Anything_. What's the matter?"

"Nothing," said Harry. By the look on his face though, Elle knew something was wrong.

Before she could say another word, the dormitory door was flung open and Fred and George bounded in.

"Merry Christmas — hey, what is Elle doing in here?" said Fred.

"We opened presents together," said Ron.

"Yeah, sure, you 'opened presents together'," said George with a wink.

"We did!" Ron protested.

"Hey, look — Elle and Harry both got a Weasley sweater, too!" the twins said together.

Fred and George were wearing blue sweaters, one with a large yellow F on it, and the other a G.

"Their's are better than ours, though," said Fred while holding up Harry's sweater. George picked up Elle's. "She obviously makes more an effort if you're not family."

"Why aren't you wearing yours, Ron?" George demanded. "Come on, get it on, they're lovely and warm."

"I hate maroon," Ron moaned half heartedly as he pulled it over his head.

"You two haven't got a letter on yours," George observed. "I suppose she thinks you don't forget your names. But we're not stupid — we know we're called Gred and Forge."

"What's all this noise?"

Percy Weasley stuck his head through the door, looking disapproving. He had clearly gotten halfway through unwrapping his presents as he, too, carried a lumpy sweater over his arm, which Fred seized.

"P for prefect! Get it on, Percy, come on, we're all wearing ours, even Harry and Elle got one."

"I — don't — want —" said Percy thickly as the twins forced the sweater over his head, knocking his glasses askew.

"And you're not sitting with the prefects today, either," said George. "Christmas is a time for family."

They frog-marched Percy from the room, his arms pinned to his side by his sweater.

Elle had never in all her life seen such a Christmas dinner. A hundred fat, roast turkeys; mountains of roast and boiled potatoes; platters of chipolatas; tureens of buttered peas; silver boats of thick, rich gravy and cranberry sauce — and stacks of wizard crackers every few feet along the table. Elle pulled a wizard cracker with George, and it went off like a cannon and engulfed them all in a cloud of blue smoke, while from the inside exploded a rear admiral's hat and several live, white mice. Up at the High Table, Dumbledore had swapped his pointed wizard's hat for a flowered bonnet, and was chuckling merrily at a joke Professor Flitwick had just read him.

Flaming Christmas puddings followed the turkey. Percy nearly broke his teeth on a silver Sickle embedded in his slice. Harry sat next to Elle and she watched Hagrid getting redder and redder in the face as he called for more wine, finally kissing Professor McGonagall on the cheek, who, to Elle's amazement, giggled and blushed, her top hat lopsided.

Elle finished eating and she, Harry, and the Weasleys spent a happy afternoon having a furious snowball fight on the grounds. Then, cold, wet, and gasping for breath, they returned to the fire in the Gryffindor common room, where Elle watched Harry and Ron play wizard's chess while she snacked on Chocolate Frogs.

After a meal of turkey sandwiches, crumpets, trifle, and Christmas cake, everyone felt too full and sleepy to do much before bed except sit and watch Percy chase Fred and George all over Gryffindor Tower because they'd stolen his prefect badge.

Elle sat in one of the large push chairs that sat in front of the fire place, enjoying the comfort of the warm flames, as well as the sweater from Mrs. Weasley. Harry and Ron turned in for the night, but Elle decided to stay up for a few moments longer.

_Elle was somewhere dark, so dark that she could barely make out the trees around her. The ground beneath her feet was soft. As she walked through the forest, looking for the exit, she slipped and landed in a puddle of a silver liquid. Elle looked around trying to figure out where the slippery substance was coming from. That's when she saw it: laying on the ground, the life drained from its like its blood, was a unicorn. It was breathtakingly beautiful, even in death. Elle had just reached out to touch its horn when a cloaked figure appeared and began feasting on the creature's blood, seeming completely oblivious to Elle. It wasn't until she let out a small cry in fear that the figure seemed to acknowledge her. The cloaked figure rose to their feet and neared Elle._

"_Elle," it hissed as it approached her, "Elle!"_

"_Leave me alone!" said Elle frantically, flailing her arms and legs._

"_Elle!" it moaned._

"_Leave me alone!" she was crying now. The figure reached out and grabbed her shoulders before they proceeded to shake her. Elle clenched her eyes shut._

"_Elle!"_

"_Go away!" she shrieked._

"Elle! Wake up!"

Elle slowly opened her eyes and found Harry in front of her, hands on her shoulders. She could feel her cheeks were damp with tears that she must've shed while she dreamt.

"Harry?" she whispered, her voice hoarse and her throat sore. "Was I screaming?"

"Yeah, you were," he replied, frowning some. "Bad dream?"

"The worst," she said quietly.

"Well, I found something that might cheer you up."

Harry began to Elle about a mirror he had found.

"You saw your parents?" Elle echoed as Harry finished telling her the story. "Are you sure about that, Harry?"

"I'm positive!" Harry said eagerly. "I really saw them! C'mon, please! I want you to see this!"

Elle reluctantly agreed, but when she asked if Harry wanted to wake Ron so he could tag along, Harry shook his head and said that he wanted to show her first before anyone else. Elle wasn't completely sure that what Harry said was true, but still, she agreed and the two of them snuck out under the cover of Harry's Invisibility Cloak. It took half an hour to reach the mirror because Harry was having a little trouble remembering exactly the way he went, but when they reached the room in which the mirror stood, Elle was struck silent. It was a magnificent mirror, as high as the ceiling, with an ornate gold frame, standing on two clawed feet. There was an inscription carved around the top: _Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi._

"Well. . . . What do you think?" Harry asked and it was obvious he was excited.

"It's quite spectacular," Elle said slowly — he was so excited to show her this, but Elle couldn't see the appeal; sure it looked pretty, but it was just a mirror. How could is show her her parents?

"Okay, now look into it," he said, pushing her towards the mirror.

"Oh, Harry," Elle groaned, trying to resist.

"Just trust me," said Harry. _"Look."_

Elle looked at her reflection and she froze — she wasn't alone. There was a woman standing right behind her reflection, and she was smiling and waving at her. She was a very pretty woman. She had dark hair and her eyes — _her eyes are just like mine_, Elle thought, edging a little closer to the glass. Grey — exactly the same shape. Elle reached out a hand and felt the air behind her. If she was really there, he'd touch her, their reflections were so close together, but he felt only air — she only existed in the mirror.

There was another figure — a man. He wore a black cloak and had extremely pale skin. He had no apparent nose, just two slits, and had red eyes. Elle thought he looked like a snake. Either way, Elle had no idea why they appeared to her.

Something about the man was very unsettling — he made Elle's skin crawl with the way he smiled at her. Elle was rather unsettled by the man in the reflection, so, when Harry asked her what she saw, Elle quite plainly told him, "Nothing."

"Nothing?" Harry echoed, frowning some. "You don't see anything?"

"No," Elle lied. "I don't see a thing."

"You could have woken me up," said Ron, crossly as Harry told him about the mirror during breakfast the following morning.

"You can come tonight, I'm going back, I want to show you the mirror," said Harry. "Do you want to come again, Elle?"

"Er, I. . . . I don't think so," said Elle, shifting uncomfortably — she really didn't want to see to see that odd snake-like man again.

"I'd like to see your mum and dad," Ron said eagerly.

"And I want to see all your family, all the Weasleys, you'll be able to show me your other brothers and everyone."

"You can see them any old time," said Ron. "Just come round my house this summer. Anyway, maybe it only shows dead people. Shame about not finding Flamel, though. Have some bacon or something, why aren't you eating anything?"

Elle couldn't eat. She had seen her mom, but there was something about the man that Elle saw that bothered her. For some reason, he seemed . . . familiar.

"Are you all right?" said Ron, looking at Elle curiously. "You look odd."

"Oh, I-I'm fine," said Elle quickly.

"I know what's bothering her," said Harry. Ron and Elle both looked at him expectantly, and Harry continued. "The mirror didn't work for Elle — she couldn't see anything."

"Really?" said Ron. "Do you think that it will work for me?"

"Oh, I'm sure it will, Ron," said Elle quickly. "I'm sure it will. . . ."

So, that night, Harry and Ron went off to the mirror. The next morning, Elle, Harry, and Ron say in the common room by the fire, and Ron told Elle all about the mirror — apparently, he had seen himself as Head Boy and the Quidditch captain, holding both the House Cup and the Quidditch cup.

"So you didn't see any dead family members?" said Elle curiously.

Ron shook his head. "Nope — I saw myself, but I was amazing! Do you think that mirror shows the future?"

Elle frowned some. "I-I don't know about that. . . ."

It was just then that Elle realized just how quiet Harry had been. Ron must have noticed this too, because he spoke up.

"Want to play chess, Harry?" said Ron.

"No."

"Why don't we go down and visit Hagrid?" Elle suggested.

"No . . . you go . . ."

Elle frowned some — he looked like he was distracted, and she had a sinking feeling it was because of that mirror.

"I know what you're thinking about Harry, that mirror. Don't go back tonight," said Elle.

Harry looked at her for the first time all morning, looking quite surprised.

"Why not?"

"I dunno, I've just got a bad feeling about it," said Elle, thinking back to that man. "Anyway, you've had too many come shaves already. Filch, Snape, and Mrs. Norris are wandering around. So what if they see you? What if they walk into you?What if you knock something over?"

"You sound like Hermione," Harry said, rolling his eyes.

"I'm serious, Harry," said Elle. "Don't go."

"She's right, mate," said Ron. "You'll go mad sitting there in front of that mirror."

But Harry seemed to have a one track mind, and it was if her and Ron's words went in one ear and out the other.

"Fine," Elle sighed heavily. "I guess I'm going to have to go with you."

That night, Elle met Harry in the common room and, with the use of the Invisibility Cloak, they were off, Harry taking the lead. They found their way quickly, but also making much more noise than Elle would've like. But, quite luckily, they met no one along the way.

Once in the room, Elle watched Harry place himself in front of the seemed to be in some kind of trance, and Elle knew there was nothing to stop him from staying here all night with his family. Nothing at all.

Except —

"So — back again, Harry? I see you brought Elle again."

Elle froze and looked at the back of the classroom. Sitting on the one of the desks against the wall was Albus Dumbledore. They must've walked straight past him, so desperate to get to the mirror they hadn't noticed him.

"We — we didn't see you, sir," Elle stammered.

"Strong how nearsighted being invisible came make you," said Dumbledore. Thankfully, he was smiling as he said this.

"So," said Dumbledore, slipping off the desk to sit on the floor with Harry. He motioned for Elle to sit next to him. She quickly sat down next to him. "You two, like hundreds before you, have discovered the delights of the Mirror of Erised."

"I didn't know it was called that, sir," said Harry.

"But I expect you've realized by now what it does?"

"It — well — it shows me my family —"

"And it showed your friend Ron himself as Head Boy."

Elle didn't dare mention what she saw.

"How did you know —?" asked Harry.

"I don't need a cloak to become invisible," said Dumbledore gently. "Now, can you think what the Mirror of Erised showed us all?"

Harry shook his head and Elle remained silent.

"Let me explain. The happiest man on the earth would be able to use the Mirror of Erised like a normal mirror, that is, he would look into it and see himself exactly as he is. Does that help?"

Harry slowly said, "It shows us what we want . . . whatever we want."

"Yes and no," said Dumbledore quietly. "It shows us nothing more or less than the deepest, most desperate desire of our hearts. You, who have never known your family, see them standing around you. Ronald Weasley, who has always been overshadowed by his brothers, sees himself standing alone, the best of all of them. However, this mirror will give us neither knownledge or truth. Men have wasted away before it, entranced by what they have seen, or been driven mad, not knowing it what it shows is real of even possible.

"The Mirror will be moved to a new home tomorrow, you two, and I ask you not to go looking for it again. If you ever _do _run across it, you will now be prepared. It does not do to dwell on dreams and forget to live, remember that. Now why don't you two put that admirable Cloak back on and get off to bed?"

Harry and Elle stood up.

"Sir — Professor Dumbledore? Can I ask you something?" Harry asked.

"Obviously, you've just done so," Dumbledore smiled. "You may ask me one more thing, however."

"What do you see when you look in the mirror?"

"I? I see myself holding a pair of thick, woolen socks."

Harry and Elle stared.

"One can never have enough socks," said Dumbledore. "Another Christmas has come and gone and I didn't get a single pair. People will insist on giving me books."

Harry turned to leave but stopped.

"I have one more question."

"And what's that?"

"Well, the first night we came here, Elle looked in the Mirror, but she didn't see anything. She's been through the same thing as me — our parents were murdered. I mean, I know Mr. and Mrs. Chadwick are _like_ her parents, but she can't be the happiest person in the world."

Dumbledore was silent. "What's your question?"

"Why doesn't it work for Elle?"

"Harry. . . . Why don't you go to bed and let me talk to Elle?"

Harry hesitated.

"Don't worry, I'll lead her back to the common room."

Harry gave Elle a curious look, as if making sure she would be okay without him there. Elle nodded softly, encouraging him to go, and just like that, Harry hurried off, leaving Elle and Dumbledore alone in the classroom.

Elle looked at Dumbledore, wondering why he wanted to talk to her.

"Elle," Dumbledore finally said, "come here. Stand in front of the Mirror."

She did as she was instructed. Dumbledore moved away from the Mirror and like before, she was accompanied by her mother and the snake man. At the sight of her mother, Elle found herself smiling softly as her mother looked on at her daughter fondly — it felt so nice to be close to her mother, even if it was just a reflection.

"Ah, so you _do_ see something," Dumbledore chuckled. Elle jumped; she'd forgotten about Dumbledore.

"Please, Elle, tell me — what do you see?"

"I see — I see my mother — and a man," Elle said slowly.

"Do you know the man?"

Elle shook her head. No, I. . . . I don't. . . . He kind of looks . . . snake-like."

Dumbledore was silent for a long time.

"What's your deepest desire, Elle?" said Dumbledore.

"Well . . . I. . . . I thought it was to see my mother and father," Elle said softly. "I never met them, and no one seems to know who my father truly is, but. . . . Well, I look nothing like the man I see."

"And this man," said Dumbledore quietly. "You've never seen him before?"

Elle shook her head. "No, never."

"Hm, I see. . . ," Dumbledore muttered. Then, quite suddenly, he walked to the door of the room and opened it, looking over at Elle. "Well, time to go!"

He led Elle back to the common room and she went off to bed. As she settled under the covers, she began thinking about that man. . . . Elle knew her deepest desire was to meet her parents, but that man. . . . She looked nothing like him, and he never appeared in any of the pictures she had seen of her mother. But still, if the Mirror of Esired really showed you your hearts greatest desire. . . . _Could_ that be her father?


	15. Chapter Fourteen

Secret Relations

Chapter Fourteen

Seamus and Hermione returned the day before term started. Seamus was very happy to see Elle, telling her how boring his Christmas had been. Hermione, however, was mortified when she found out Elle, Harry, and Ron had been roaming the school at night, and she was disappointed that they hadn't found out anything about Nicolas Flamel.

They had almost given up hope of ever finding Flamel in a library book. Once term had started, they were back to skimming through books for ten minutes during their breaks. Harry and Elle had even less time than the other two, because Quidditch practice had started again.

Wood was working the team harder than ever. Even the endless rain that had replaced the snow couldn't damped his spirits. The Weasleys complained that Wood was becoming a fanatic, but Elle was on Wood's side. If they won their next match, against Hufflepuff, they would overtake Slytherin in the House Championship for the first time in seven years. Quite apart from wanting to win, Elle found that she had fewer nightmares when she was tired out after training.

Then, during one particularly wet and muddy practice session, Wood gave the team a bit of bad news. He'd just gotten very angry with the Weasleys, who kept dive-bombing each other and pretending to fall off their brooms.

"Will you stop messing around!" he yelled. "That's exactly the sort of thing that'll lose us the match! Snape's refereeing this time, and he'll be looking for any excuse to knock points off Gryffindor!"

George really did fall off his broom at these words. Elle dove and caught him, his face only inches from a giant mud puddle. Fred brought him his broom and Elle placed him on his feet.

"Thanks," George said. He looked at Wood. "_Snape's_ refereeing?"

Elle landed next to George to protest.

"Since when has he ever refereed a Quidditch match? He's not going to be fair if we might overtake Slytherin!"

The rest of the team landed next to them to complain too.

"It's not _my_ fault," said Wood. "We've just got to make sure we play a clean game, so Snape hasn't got an excuse to pick on us."

The rest of the team hung back to talk to one another as usual at the end of practice, but Harry and Elle headed straight back to the Gryffindor common room, where they found Ron and Hermione playing chess. Chess was the only thing Hermione ever lost at, something Harry, Ron, and Elle thought was very good for her.

When Elle sat down next to Hermione, it wasn't long before Seamus found her.

"Hey, Elle!" Seamus said.

"Hi, Seamus," said Elle. She was extremely tired, but she tried to seem happy.

"How's practice going?"

"Cold, wet, muddy, and tiring."

"I can see that — you're filthy!"

"Thanks, Seamus," Elle said sarcastically.

"Ah, sorry, bad choice of words. . . . Um, when's the big game?" he asked, his face bright red.

"In two weeks," she said, smiling at his embarrassment.

"Good to know. I'll be there! Well, I better go start on the homework Snape gave us. Talk to you later."

Elle turned back to the others, who were discussing ways for Harry to get out of the match.

"He can't," Elle butted in. "There isn't a reserve Seeker. If he backs out, Gryffindor can't play at all."

At that moment Neville toppled into the common room. How he managed to climb through the portrait hole was anyone's guess, because his legs had been stuck together with what they recognized at once as the Leg-Locker Curse. He must have had to bunny hop all the way up to the Gryffindor Tower. Everyone fell over laughing except for Elle and Hermione. Hermione leapt up and performed the countercurse. Neville's legs sprang apart and he got to his feet, trembling.

"What happened?" Hermione asked him, leading him over to sit with Harry, Ron, and Elle.

"Malfoy," said Neville shakily. "I met him outside the library. He said he'd been looking for someone to practice that on."

"Go to Professor McGonagall!" Hermione urged Neville. "Report him!"

Neville shook his head.

"I don't want more trouble," he mumbled.

"You've got to stand up to him, Neville!" said Ron. "He's used to walking all over people, but that's no reason to lie down in front of him and make it easier."

"There's no need to tell me I'm not brave enough to be in Gryffindor, Malfoy's already done that," Neville choked out.

Harry felt in the pocket of his robes for something, and Elle watched as he pulled out a Chocolate Frog — it was the very last one from the box Hermione had given him for Christmas. He gave it to Neville, who looked as though he might cry.

"You're worth twelve of Malfoy," Harry said. "The Sorting Hat chose you for Gryffindor, didn't it? And where's Malfoy? In stinking Slytherin."

Neville's lips twitched in a weak smile as he unwrapped the frog.

"Thanks, Harry . . . I think I'll go to bed. . . . D'you want the card, you collect them, don't you?"

As Neville walked away, Harry looked at the Famous Wizard card.

"Dumbledore again," he said, "He was the first one I ever —"

Suddenly Harry gasped. Elle watched as he stared at the back of the card. Then he looked up at Elle, Ron, and Hermione.

_"I've found him!"_ he whispered. "I've found Flamel! I told you I'd read the name somewhere before, I read it on the train coming here — listen to this: 'Dumbledore is particularly famous for his defeat of the Dark wizard Grindelwald in 1945, for the discovery of the twelve uses of dragon's blood, _and his work on alchemy with his partner, Nicolas Flamel'!"_

Hermione jumped to her feet. She hadn't looked so excited since they'd gotten back the marks for their very first piece of homework.

"Stay there!" she said, and she sprinted up the stairs to the girls' dormitories. Elle, Harry, and Ron barely had time to exchange mystified looks before she was dashing back, an enormous old book in her arms.

"I never thought to look in here!" she whispered excitedly. "I got this out of the library weeks ago for a bit of light reading."

_"Light?" _said Ron, but Hermione told him to be quiet until she'd looked something up, and started flicking frantically through the pages, muttering to herself.

At last she found what she was looking for.

"I knew it! I _knew_ it!"

"Are we allowed to speak yet?" said Ron grumpily. Hermione ignored him.

"Nicolas Flamel," she whispered dramatically, "is the _only known maker of the Sorcerer's Stone_!"

This didn't have quite the effect she'd expected.

"The what?" said Harry and Ron.

"The Sorcerer's Stone," repeated Elle.

"_Honestly_, don't you two read? Look — read that, there," said Hermione, pushing the book towards them.

Elle, Harry, and Ron read:

_The ancient study of alchemy is concerned with making the Sorcerer's Stone, a legendary substance with astonishing powers. The Stone will transform any metal into pure gold. It also produces the Elixir of Life, which will make the drinker immortal._

_There have been many reports of the Sorcerer's Stone over the centuries, but the only Stone currently in existence belongs to Mr. Nicolas Flamel, the noted alchemist and opera lover. Mr. Flamel, who celebrated his six hundred and sixty-fifth birthday last year, enjoys a quiet life in Devon with his wife, Perenelle (six hundred and fifty-eight)._

"See?" said Hermione, when Harry, Elle, and Ron had finished. "The dog must be guarding Flamel's Sorcerer's Stone! I bet he asked Dumbledore to keep it safe for him, because they're friends and he knew someone was after it, that's why he wanted the Stone moved out of Gringotts!"

"A stone that makes gold and stops you from ever dying!" said Harry. "No wonder Snape's after it! _Anyone_ would want it."

"And no wonder we couldn't find Flamel in that _Study of Recent Developments in Wizardry_," said Ron. "He's not exactly recent if he's six hundred and sixty-five, is he?"

* * *

The next morning in Defense Agains the Dark Arts, while coping down different ways of treating werewolf bites, Harry, Ron, and Elle were still discussing what they'd do with the Sorcerer's Stone if that had one. It wasn't until Ron said he'd buy his own Quidditch team that Harry and Elle remembered about Snape and the coming match.

"I'm going to play," he told Elle, Ron, and Hermione. "If I don't, all the Slytherins will think I'm just too scared to face Snape. I'll show them it'll really wipe the smile off their faces if we win."

"Just as long as we're not wiping you off the field," said Hermione.

* * *

As the match drew nearer, however, Harry became more and more nervous, whatever he told, Elle, Ron and Hermione. Elle and the rest of the team weren't too calm, either. The idea of overtaking Slytherin in the House Championship was wonderful, no one had done it for seven years, but would they be allowed to, with such a biased referee?

Elle didn't know whether she was imagining it or not, but she and Harry seemed to keep running into Snape wherever they went. At times, she even wondered whether Snape was following hem, trying to catch them on their own. Potions lessons were turning into a sort of weekly torture, Snape was so horrible to Harry, though Elle found he was being slightly nicer towards her, but not much. Could Snape possibly know they'd found out about the Sorcerer's Stone? Elle didn't see how he could — yet she sometimes had the horrible feeling that Snape could read minds.

* * *

Harry and Elle knew, when they wished them good luck outside the locker rooms the next afternoon, that Ron and Hermione were wondering whether they'd ever see Harry alive again. This wasn't what you'd call comforting. Harry and Elle hardly heard a word of Wood's pep talk as they pulled on their Quidditch robes and picked up their Nimbus Two Thousands.

Ron and Hermione, meanwhile, had found a place in the stands next to Neville, who couldn't understand why they looked so grim and worried, or why they had both brought their wands to the match. Little did Harry know that Ron and Hermione had been secretly practicing the Leg-Locker Curse. They'd gotten the idea from Malfoy using it on Neville, and were ready to use it on Snape if he showed any sign of wanting to hurt Harry.

"Now, don't forget, it's Locomotor Mortis," Hermione muttered as Ron slipped his wand up his sleeve.

"I know," Ron snapped. "Don't nag."

Back in the locker room, Wood had taken Harry aside.

"Don't want to pressure you, Potter, but if we ever need an early capture of the Snitch it's now. Finish the game before Snape can favor Hufflepuff too much."

"The whole school's out there!" said Fred Weasley, peering out of the door. "Even — blimey — Dumbledore's come to watch!"

Elle's heart did a somersault. Harry's eyes widened, and he and Elle exchanged glances before dashing to the door to make sure what Fred said was true.

"Dumbledore?" Harry said.

Fred was right. There was no mistaking that silver beard.

Harry could have laughed out loud with relief. He was safe. Elle knew there was simply no way that Snape would dare to try to hurt him if Dumbledore was watching.

Perhaps that was why Snape was looking so angry as the teams marched onto the field. The two captains shook hands, and with that, they were off.

It was perhaps the worst game of Quidditch Elle had ever played. She barely got the quaffle, and anytime she did manage to get hr hands on it, Snape would call a foul and reward Hufflepuff a penalty. Within five minutes, Hufflepuff had been rewarded six penalties, but luckily, Wood had managed to stop all but two of them, so they weren't too terribly behind. However, at this point, it seemed like their only hope of winning the game would be if Harry caught the Snitch before Snape had the chance to foul the Gryffindor Quidditch team into a loss.

Elle was streaking down the field after Malcom Peerce, a Chaser on the Hufflepuff team, and who just so happened to have possession of the Quaffle. As the two of them raced towards the Gryffindor goalposts, Elle determined to interfere with whatever shot he attempted, something above caught her eye. It was Harry, who had suddenly gone into a spectacular dive, which drew gasps and cheers from the crowd. Elle's broom slowed, and so did Malcom's, and they both watched as Harry streaked toward the ground like a bullet.

"Come on, Harry!" Elle screamed as she watch as Harry sped straight at Snape.

Snape turned on his broomstick just in time to see something scarlet shoot past him, missing him by inches — the next second, Harry had pulled out of the dive, his arm raised in triumph, the Snitch clasped in his hand.

The stands erupted; it had to be a record, no one could ever remember the Snitch being caught so quickly.

Malcom Peerce let out a very disappointed groan, dropping the Quaffle and rolling his eyes, slowly flying towards the Hufflepuff goalposts to join his team on the ground. Elle and Wood both quick flew towards the ground, Fred, George, Angelia, and Alicia all joining them on the ground as well. The team quickly ran to meet Harry, who had jumped off his broom.

"Harry, you did it!" Elle exclaimed. "Gryffindor is in the lead!"

As Gryffindors came spilling onto the field, Elle saw Snape land nearby, white-faced and tight-lipped — then Elle saw someone come up behind Harry and place a hand on his shoulder. Both she and Harry looked up into Dumbledore's smiling face.

"Well done," said Dumbledore quietly, so that only they could hear. "Nice to see you two haven't been brooding about that mirror . . . been keeping busy . . . excellent . . ."

Snape spat bitterly on the ground.

* * *

Harry and Elle left the locker room together some time later to take their Nimbus Two Thousands back to the broomshed. Harry was beaming, and Elle noticed.

"Someone's happy with himself," Elle said with a smile.

"Well, I've really done something to be proud of, right?" said Harry, looking at her with a smile. "No one can say I'm just a famous name anymore."

"I don't think anyone has ever thought you were just a famous name, Harry," Elle said.

"I know, but. . . . Everything just seems better — even the air smells better," Harry said, still beaming.

Elle chuckled, and the two of them walked over the damp grass, reliving the last hour aloud; Gryffindors running to lift Harry onto their shoulders; Ron and Hermione in the distance, jumping up and down, Ron cheering through a heavy nosebleed.

Harry and Elle had reached the shed. Harry leaned against the wooden door and Elle looked up at Hogwarts, with its windows glowing red in the setting sun. Gryffindor in the lead.

"I did it," Harry muttered, gazing up at Hogwarts with Elle. "I really showed Snape. . . ."

And speaking of Snape . . .

A hooded figure came swiftly down the front steps of the castle. Clearly not wanting to be seen, it walked as fast as possible toward the forbidden forest. The Gryffindor victory faded from Elle's mind as she watched. She recognized the figure's prowling walk. Snape, sneaking into the forest while everyone else was at dinner — what was going on?

"Did you see that?" Elle said to Harry.

Harry nodded. "He looks like someone who doesn't want to be followed."

"Then I guess it's our job to follow him," Elle said.

With that, Elle and Harry jumped back on their Nimbus Two Thousands and took off. Gliding silently over the castle they saw Snape enter the forest at a run. They followed.

The trees were so thick Elle couldn't see where Snape had gone. She and Harry flew in circles, lower and lower, brushing the top branches of trees until they heard voices. They glided toward them and landed noiselessly in a towering beech tree.

They climbed carefully along one of the branches, holding tight to their broomsticks, trying to see through the leaves.

Below, in a shadowy clearing, stood Snape, but he wasn't alone. Quirrell was there, too. Elle couldn't make out the look on his face, but he was stuttering worse than ever. Elle strained to catch what they were saying.

". . . d-don't know why you wanted t-t-to meet here of all p-places, Severus . . ."

"Oh, I thought we'd keep this private," said Snape, his voice icy. "Students aren't supposed to know about the Sorcerer's Stone, after all."

Elle leaned forward. Quirrell was mumbling something. Snape interrupted him.

"Have you found out how to get past that beast of Hagrid's yet?"

"B-b-but Severus, I —"

"You don't want me as your enemy, Quirrell," said Snape, taking a step toward him.

"I-I don't know what you —"

"You know perfectly well what I mean."

An owl hooted loudly, and Elle nearly fell out of the tree. Harry quickly reached out and grabbed Elle, steadying her just in time to hear Snape say, "— your little bit of hocus-pocus. I'm waiting."

"B-but I d-d-don't —"

"Very well," Snape cut in. "We'll have another little chat soon, when you've had time to think things over and decided where your loyalties lie."

He threw his cloak over his head and strode out of the clearing. It was almost dark now, but Elle could see Quirrell, standing quite still as though he was petrified.

* * *

"Harry, where have you been?" Hermione squeaked.

"We won! You won! We won!" shouted Ron, thumping Harry on the back. "And I gave Malfoy a black eye, and Neville tried to take on Crabbe and Goyle single-handed! He's still out cold but Madam Pomfrey says he'll be all right — talk about showing Slytherin! Everyone's waiting for you in the common room, we're having a party, Fred and George stole some cakes and stuff from the kitchens."

"Never mind that now," said Elle breathlessly.

"Let's find an empty room, you wait 'til you hear this. . . ," said Harry.

They made sure Peeves wasn't inside before shutting the door behind them, then Elle and Harry told them what they'd seen and heard.

"So we were right, it is the Sorcerer's Stone, and Snape's trying to force Quirrell to help him get it," said Harry.

Elle nodded. "Mhmm. He asked if he knew how to get past Fluffy — and he said something about Quirrell's 'hocus-pocus'— I reckon there are other things guarding the stone apart from Fluffy, loads of enchantments, probably, and Quirrell would have done some anti-Dark Arts spell that Snape needs to break through —"

"So you mean the Stone's only safe as long as Quirrell stands up to Snape?" said Hermione in alarm.

"It'll be gone by next Tuesday," said Ron."


	16. Chapter Fifteen

Secret Relations

Chapter Fifteen

Quirrell, however, must have been braver than they'd thought. In the weeks that followed he did seem to be getting paler and thinner, but it didn't look as though he'd cracked yet.

Every time they passed the third-floor corridor, Harry, Elle, Ron, and Hermione would press their ears to the door to check that Fluffy was still growling inside. Snape was sweeping about in his usual bad temper, which surely meant that the Stone was still safe. Whenever Elle passed Quirrell these days she gave him an encouraging sort of smile, and Ron had started telling people off for laughing at Quirrell's stutter.

Hermione, however, had more on her mind than the Sorcerer's Stone. She had started drawing up study schedules and color-coding all her notes. Harry, Elle, and Ron wouldn't have minded, but she kept nagging them to do the same.

"Hermione, the exams are ages away," Elle said.

"Ten weeks," Hermione snapped. "That's not ages, that's like a second to Nicolas Flamel."

"But we're not six hundred years old," Ron reminded her. "Anyway, what are you studying for, you already know it all."

"What am I studying for? Are you crazy? You realize we need to pass these exams to get into the second year? They're very important, I should have started studying a month ago, I don't know what's gotten into me. . . ."

Unfortunately, the teachers seemed to be thinking along the same lines as Hermione. They piled so much homework on them that the Easter holidays weren't nearly as much fun as the Christmas ones. It was hard to relax with Hermione next to you reciting the twelve uses of dragon's blood or practicing wand movements. Moaning and yawning, Harry, Elle, and Ron spent most of their free time in the library with her, trying to get through all their extra work.

"I'll never remember this," Ron burst out one afternoon, throwing down his quill and looking longingly out of the library window. It was the first really fine day they'd had in months. The sky was a clear, forget-me-not blue, and there was a feeling in the air of summer coming.

Elle, who was looking up "Dittany" in _One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi_ alongside Harry, didn't look up until she heard Ron say, "Hagrid! What are you doing in the library?"

Hagrid shuffled into view, hiding something behind his back. He looked very out of place in his moleskin overcoat.

"Jus' lookin'," he said, in a shifty voice that got their interest at once. "An' what're you lot up ter?" He looked suddenly suspicious. "Yer not still lookin' fer Nicolas Flamel, are yeh?"

"Oh, we found out who he is ages ago," said Ron impressively. "And we know what that dog's guarding, it's a Sorcerer's St —"

_"Shhhh!"_ Hagrid looked around quickly to see if anyone was listening. "Don' go shoutin' about it, what's the matter with yeh?"

"There are a few things we wanted to ask you, as a matter of fact," said Harry, "about what's guarding the Stone apart from Fluffy —"

"SHHHH!" said Hagrid again. "Listen — come an' see me later, I'm not promisin' I'll tell yeh anythin', mind, but don' go rabbitin' about it in here, students aren' s'pposed ter know. They'll think I've told yeh —"

"See you later, then," said Harry.

Hagrid shuffled off.

"What was he hiding behind his back?" said Hermione thoughtfully.

"Do you think it had anything to do with the Stone?"

"I'm going to see what section he was in," said Ron, who'd had enough of working. He came back a minute later with a pile of books in his arms and slammed them down on the table.

_"Dragons!"_ he whispered. "Hagrid was looking up stuff about dragons! Look at these: _Dragon Species of Great Britain and Ireland; From Egg to Inferno, A Dragon Keeper's Guide_."

"Hagrid's always wanted a dragon," said Harry.

Elle nodded in agreement.

"That's right — he told us so when we first met him!"

"But it's against our laws," said Ron. "Dragon breeding was outlawed by the Warlocks' Convention of 1709, everyone knows that. It's hard to stop Muggles from noticing us if we're keeping dragons in the back garden — anyway, you can't tame dragons, it's dangerous. You should see the burns Charlie's got off wild ones in Romania."

"But there aren't wild dragons in _Britain_?" said Harry.

"Of course there are," said Ron. "Common Welsh Green and Hebridean Blacks. The Ministry of Magic has a job hushing them up, I can tell you. Our kind have to keep putting spells on Muggles who've spotted them, to make them forget."

"So what on earth's Hagrid up to?" said Elle.

* * *

When they knocked on the door of the gamekeeper's hut an hour later, they were surprised to see that all the curtains were closed. Hagrid called "Who is it?" before he let them in, and then shut the door quickly behind them.

It was stifling hot inside. Even though it was such a warm day, there was a blazing fire in the grate. Hagrid made them tea and offered them stoat sandwiches, which they refused.

"So — yeh wanted to ask me somethin'?"

"Yes," said Harry.

He looked a bit uncomfortable, but Elle knew that there was no point beating around the bush.

"We were wondering if you could tell us what's guarding the Sorcerer's Stone apart from Fluffy," said Elle.

Hagrid frowned at her.

"O' course I can't," he said. "Number one, I don' know meself. Number two, yeh know too much already, so I wouldn' tell yeh if I could. That Stone's here fer a good reason. It was almost stolen outta Gringotts — I s'ppose yeh've worked that out an' all? Beats me how yeh even know abou' Fluffy."

"Oh, come on, Hagrid, you might not want to tell us, but you do know, you know everything that goes on round here," said Hermione in a warm, flattering voice. Hagrid's beard twitched and they could tell he was smiling. "We only wondered who had done the guarding, really." Hermione went on. "We wondered who Dumbledore had trusted enough to help him, apart from you."

Hagrid's chest swelled at these last words. Harry, Elle, and Ron beamed at Hermione.

"Well, I don' s'pose it could hurt ter tell yeh that . . . let's see . . . he borrowed Fluffy from me . . . then some o' the teachers did enchantments . . . Professor Sprout — Professor Flitwick — Professor McGonagall —" he ticked them off on his fingers, "Professor Quirrell — an' Dumbledore himself did somethin', o' course. Hang on, I've forgotten someone. Oh yeah, Professor Snape."

_"Snape?"_

"Yeah — yer not still on abou' that, are yeh? Look, Snape helped _protect_ the Stone, he's not about ter steal it."

"You're the only one who knows how to get past Fluffy, aren't you, Hagrid?" said Harry anxiously. "And you wouldn't tell anyone, would you? Not even one of the teachers?"

"Not a soul knows except me an' Dumbledore," said Hagrid proudly.

"Well, that's something," Harry muttered to the others. "Hagrid, can we have a window open? I'm boiling."

"Can't, Harry, sorry," said Hagrid. Elle noticed him glance at the fire. Elle looked at it, too.

"Hagrid — what's _that_?" Elle said slowly, her eyes widening.

But she already knew what it was. In the very heart of the fire, underneath the kettle, was a huge, black egg.

"Ah," said Hagrid, fiddling nervously with his beard, "That's — er . . ."

"Where did you get it, Hagrid?" said Ron, crouching over the fire to get a closer look at the egg. "It must've cost you a fortune."

"Won it," said Hagrid. "Las' night. I was down in the village havin' a few drinks an' got into a game o' cards with a stranger. Think he was quite glad ter get rid of it, ter be honest."

"But what are you going to do with it when it's hatched?" said Hermione.

"Well, I've bin doin' some readin'," said Hagrid, pulling a large book from under his pillow. "Got this outta the library — _Dragon Breeding for Pleasure and Profit_ — it's a bit outta date, o' course, but it's all in here. Keep the egg in the fire, 'cause their mothers breathe on 'em, see, an' when it hatches, feed it on a bucket o' brandy mixed with chicken blood every half hour. An' see here — how ter recognize diff'rent eggs — what I got there's a Norwegian Ridgeback. They're rare, them."

He looked very pleased with himself, but Hermione didn't.

"Hagrid, you live in a _wooden house_," she said.

But Hagrid wasn't listening. He was humming merrily as he stoked the fire.

* * *

So now they had something else to worry about: what might happen to Hagrid if anyone found out he was hiding an illegal dragon in his hut.

"Wonder what it's like to have a peaceful life," Ron sighed, as evening after evening they struggled through all the extra homework they were getting. Hermione had now started making study schedules for Harry and Ron, too. It was driving them nuts — or, at least, that'd what they told Elle.

Then, one breakfast time, Hedwig brought Harry another note from Hagrid. He had written only two words: _It's hatching._

Ron wanted to skip Herbology and go straight down to the hut. Hermione wouldn't hear of it.

"Hermione, how many times in our lives are we going to see a dragon hatching?"

"We've got lessons, we'll get into trouble, and that's nothing to what Hagrid's going to be in when someone finds out what he's doing —"

"Shut up!" Harry and Elle whispered in unison.

Malfoy was only a few feet away and he had stopped dead to listen. How much had he heard? Elle didn't like the look on Malfoy's face at all.

Ron and Hermione argued all the way to Herbology and in the end, Hermione agreed to run down to Hagrid's with the other two during morning break. When the bell sounded from the castle at the end of their lesson, the four of them dropped their trowels at once and hurried through the grounds to the edge of the forest. Hagrid greeted them, looking flushed and excited.

"It's nearly out." He ushered them inside.

The egg was lying on the table. There were deep cracks in it. Something was moving inside; a funny clicking noise was coming from it.

They all drew their chairs up to the table and watched with bated breath.

All at once there was a scraping noise and the egg split open. The baby dragon flopped onto the table. It wasn't exactly pretty; Elle thought it looked like a crumpled, black umbrella. Its spiny wings were huge compared to its skinny jet body, it had a long snout with wide nostrils, the stubs of horns and bulging, orange eyes.

It sneezed. A couple of sparks flew out of its snout.

"Isn't he _beautiful_?" Hagrid murmured. He reached out a hand to stroke the dragon's head. It snapped at his fingers, showing pointed fangs.

"Bless him, look, he knows his mummy!" said Hagrid.

"Hagrid," said Hermione, "how fast do Norwegian Ridgebacks grow, exactly?"

Hagrid was about to answer when the color suddenly drained from his face — he leapt to his feet and ran to the window.

"What's the matter?"

"Someone was lookin' through the gap in the curtains — it's a kid — he's runnin' back up ter the school."

Harry bolted to the door and looked out. Even at a distance there was no mistaking him.

Malfoy had seen the dragon.

* * *

Something about the smile lurking on Malfoy's face during the next week made Harry, Elle, Ron, and Hermione very nervous. They spent most of their free time in Hagrid's darkened hut, trying to reason with him.

"Just let him go," Harry urged. "Set him free."

"I can't," said Hagrid. "He's too little. He'd die."

They looked at the dragon. It had grown three times in length in just a week. Smoke kept furling out of its nostrils. Hagrid hadn't been doing his gamekeeping duties because the dragon was keeping him so busy. There were empty brandy bottles and chicken feathers all over the floor.

"I've decided to call him Norbert," said Hagrid, looking at the dragon with misty eyes. "He really knows me now, watch. Norbert! Norbert! Where's Mummy?"

"He's lost his marbles," Ron muttered to Harry and Elle.

"Hagrid," said Harry loudly, "give it two weeks and Norbert's going to be as long as your house. Malfoy could go to Dumbledore at any moment."

Hagrid bit his lip.

"I — I know I can't keep him forever, but I can't jus' dump him, I can't."

Elle suddenly turned to Ron.

"Charlie," she said.

"You're losing it, too," said Ron. "I'm Ron, remember?"

"No — Charlie — your brother, Charlie," said Elle. "In Romania. Studying dragons. We could send Norbert to him. Charlie can take care of him and then put him back in the wild!"

"Brilliant!" said Ron. "How about it, Hagrid?"

And in the end, Hagrid agreed that they could send an owl to Charlie to ask him.

* * *

The following week dragged by. Wednesday night found Elle, Hermione, and Harry sitting alone in the common room, long after everyone else had gone to bed. The clock on the wall had just chimed midnight when the portrait hole burst open. Ron appeared out of nowhere as he pulled off Harry's Invisibility Cloak. He had been down at Hagrid's hut, helping him feed Norbert, who was now eating dead rats by the crate.

"It bit me!" he said, showing them his hand, which was wrapped in a bloody handkerchief. "I'm not going to be able to hold a quill for a week. I tell you, that dragon's the most horrible animal I've ever met, but the way Hagrid goes on about it, you'd think it was a fluffy little bunny rabbit. When it bit me he told me off for frightening it. And when I left, he was singing it a lullaby."

There was a tap on the dark window.

"It's Hedwig!" said Harry, hurrying to let her in. "She'll have Charlie's answer!"

The four of them put their heads together to read the note.

_Dear Ron,_

_How are you? Thanks for the letter — I'd be glad to take the Norwegian Ridgeback, but it won't be easy getting him here. I think the best thing will be to send him over with some friends of mine who are coming to visit me next week. Trouble is, they mustn't be seen carrying an illegal dragon._

_Could you get the Ridgeback up the tallest tower at midnight on Saturday? They can meet you there and take him away while it's still dark._

_ Send me an answer as soon as possible._

_Love,_

_Charlie_

They looked at one another.

"We've got the Invisibility Cloak," said Harry. "It shouldn't be too difficult — I think the cloak's big enough to cover three of us and Norbert."

"I guess so," Elle said, looking at Harry's Invisibility Cloak — did she really want to be trapped underneath that thing with _Norbert_?

It was a mark of how bad the last week had been that the other two agreed with him and Elle. Anything to get rid of Norbert — and Malfoy.

* * *

There was a hitch. By the next morning, Ron's bitten hand had swollen to twice its usual size. He didn't know whether it was safe to go to Madam Pomfrey — would she recognize a dragon bite? By the afternoon, though, he had no choice. The cut had turned a nasty shade of green. It looked as if Norbert's fangs were poisonous.

Harry, Elle, and Hermione rushed up to the hospital wing at the end of the day to find Ron in a terrible state in bed.

"It's not just my hand," he whispered, "although that feels like it's about to fall off. Malfoy told Madam Pomfrey he wanted to borrow one of my books so he could come and have a good laugh at me. He kept threatening to tell her what really bit me — I've told her it was a dog, but I don't think she believes me — I shouldn't have hit him at the Quidditch match, that's why he's doing this."

Harry, Elle, and Hermione tried to calm Ron down.

"It'll all be over at midnight on Saturday," said Hermione, but this didn't soothe Ron at all. On the contrary, he sat bolt upright and broke into a sweat.

"Midnight on Saturday!" he said in a hoarse voice. "Oh no — oh no — I've just remembered — Charlie's letter was in that book Malfoy took, he's going to know we're getting rid of Norbert."

Harry, Elle, and Hermione didn't get a chance to answer. Madam Pomfrey came over at that moment and made them leave, saying Ron needed sleep.

"It's too late to change the plan now," Elle muttered to Harry and Hermione.

Harry nodded in agreement. "We haven't got time to send Charlie another owl, and this could be our only chance to get rid of Norbert. We'll have to risk it. And we have got the Invisibility Cloak, Malfoy doesn't know about that."

They found Fang the boarhound sitting outside with a bandaged tail when they went to tell Hagrid, who opened a window to talk to them.

"I won't let you in," he puffed. "Norbert's at a tricky stage — nothin' I can't handle."

When they told him about Charlie's letter, his eyes filled with tears, although that might have been because Norbert had just bitten him on the leg.

"Aargh! It's all right, he only got my boot — jus' playin'— he's only a baby, after all."

The baby banged its tail on the wall, making the windows rattle. Harry, Elle, and Hermione walked back to the castle feeling Saturday couldn't come quickly enough.

* * *

They would have felt sorry for Hagrid when the time came for him to say good-bye to Norbert if they hadn't been so worried about what they had to do. It was a very dark, cloudy night, and they were a bit late arriving at Hagrid's hut because they'd had to wait for Peeves to get out of their way in the entrance hall, where he'd been playing tennis against the wall.

Hagrid had Norbert packed and ready in a large crate.

"He's got lots o' rats an' some brandy fer the journey," said Hagrid in a muffled voice. "An' I've packed his teddy bear in case he gets lonely."

From inside the crate came ripping noises that sounded to Elle as though the teddy was having his head torn off.

"Bye-bye, Norbert!" Hagrid sobbed, as Harry, Elle, and Hermione covered the crate with the Invisibility Cloak and stepped underneath it themselves. "Mummy will never forget you!"

How they managed to get the crate back up to the castle, they never knew. Midnight ticked nearer as they heaved Norbert up the marble staircase in the entrance hall and along the dark corridors. Up another staircase, then another — even one of Harry's shortcuts didn't make the work much easier.

"Nearly there!" Harry panted as they reached the corridor beneath the tallest tower.

Then a sudden movement ahead of them made them almost drop the crate. Forgetting that they were already invisible, they shrank into the shadows, staring at the dark outlines of two people grappling with each other ten feet away. A lamp flared.

Professor McGonagall, in a tartan bathrobe and a hair net, had Malfoy by the ear.

"Detention!" she shouted. "And twenty points from Slytherin! Wandering around in the middle of the night, how dare you —"

"You don't understand, Professor. Harry Potter's coming — he's got a dragon!"

"What utter rubbish! How dare you tell such lies! Come on — I shall see Professor Snape about you, Malfoy!"

The steep spiral staircase up to the top of the tower seemed the easiest thing in the world after that. Not until they'd stepped out into the cold night air did they throw off the Cloak, glad to be able to breathe properly again. Hermione did a sort of jig.

"Malfoy's got detention! I could sing!"

"Don't," Harry advised her.

"You can once we get back to the common room," said Elle.

Chuckling about Malfoy, they waited, Norbert thrashing about in his crate. About ten minutes later, four broomsticks came swooping down out of the darkness.

Charlie's friends were a cheery lot. They showed Harry, Elle, and Hermione the harness they'd rigged up, so they could suspend Norbert between them. They all helped buckle Norbert safely into it and then Harry, Elle, and Hermione shook hands with the others and thanked them very much.

At last, Norbert was going . . . going . . . _gone_.

They slipped back down the spiral staircase, their hearts as light as their hands, now that Norbert was off them. No more dragon — Malfoy in detention — what could spoil their happiness?

The answer to that was waiting at the foot of the stairs. As they stepped into the corridor, Filch's face loomed suddenly out of the darkness.

"Well, well, well," he whispered, "we _are_ in trouble."

They'd left the Invisibility Cloak on top of the tower.


	17. Chapter Sixteen

Secret Relations

Chapter Sixteen

Things couldn't have been worse.

Filch took them down to Professor McGonagall's study on the first floor, where they sat and waited without saying a word to each other. Hermione was trembling. Excuses, alibis, and wild cover-up stories chased each other around Elle's brain, each more feeble than the last. She couldn't see how they were going to get out of trouble this time. They were cornered.

"How could we have forgotten the Cloak?" Harry muttered to Elle as they sat there.

"I-I don't know," Elle said quietly — her parents were going to be so mad if they found out about this, especially Mrs. Chadwick.

There was no reason on earth that Professor McGonagall would accept for their being out of bed and creeping around the school in the dead of night, let alone being up the tallest Astronomy Tower, which was out-of-bounds except for classes. Add Norbert and the Invisibility Cloak, and they might as well be packing their bags already.

"Well, surely this can't get any worse," Elle said to Harry and Hermione. "Right?"

She was wrong. When Professor McGonagall appeared, she was leading Neville.

"Harry! Elle!" Neville burst out, the moment he saw the other two. "I was trying to find you to warn you, I heard Malfoy saying he was going to catch you, he said you had a drag —"

Harry shook his head violently to shut Neville up, but Professor McGonagall had seen. She looked more likely to breathe fire than Norbert as she towered over the three of them.

"I would never have believed it of any of you. Mr. Filch says you were up in the Astronomy Tower. It's one o'clock in the morning. _Explain yourselves_."

It was the first time Hermione had ever failed to answer a teacher's question. She was staring at her slippers, as still as a statue.

"I think I've got a good idea of what's been going on," said Professor McGonagall. "It doesn't take a genius to work it out. You fed Draco Malfoy some cock-and-bull story about a dragon, trying to get him out of bed and into trouble. I've already caught him. I suppose you think it's funny that Longbottom here heard the story and believed it, too?"

"What?" Elle said, her eyes widened. "Professor, no, you don't understand —"

"Oh, I don't?" said Professor McGonagall, winding around on Elle. "Then please, Miss Riddle, by all means, why don't you explain what exactly is going on here?"

Elle stood there for a moment, staring at Professor McGonagall, whose narrowed eyes stared down at her, chilling Elle to the core. She very quickly found herself with nothing to say, and she shook her head.

"N-nevermind," Elle muttered.

"That's what I thought," Professor McGonagall said stiffly.

Elle caught Neville's eye and tried to tell him without words that this wasn't true, because Neville was looking stunned and hurt. Poor, blundering Neville — Elle knew what it must have cost him to try and find them in the dark, to warn them.

"I'm disgusted," said Professor McGonagall. "Five students out of bed in one night! I've never heard of such a thing before! You, Miss Granger, I thought you had more sense. As for you, Mr. Potter, I thought Gryffindor meant more to you than this. Miss Riddle, you. . . . I expected much better from you. All four of you will receive detentions — yes, you too, Mr. Longbottom, _nothing_ gives you the right to walk around school at night, especially these days, it's very dangerous — and fifty points will be taken from Gryffindor."

_"Fifty?" _both Elle and Harry gasped — they would lose the lead, the lead Harry had won in the last Quidditch match.

"Fifty points _each_," said Professor McGonagall, breathing heavily through her long, pointed nose.

"Professor — please —"

"You _can't_ —"

"Don't tell me what I can and can't do, you two," said Professor McGonagall to Harry and Elle as they tried to protest. "Now get back to bed, all of you. I've never been more ashamed of Gryffindor students."

Two hundred points lost. That put Gryffindor in last place. In one night, they'd ruined any chance Gryffindor had had for the House Cup. Elle felt as though the bottom had dropped out of her stomach. How could they ever make up for this?

"I knew this was a terrible idea," Hermione muttered miserably as she and Elle climbed the stairs to their dormitory.

"It's not as if we had much of a choice, Hermione," said Elle, her heart heavy. "Leaving Norbert with Hagrid was just an accident waiting to happen — imagine what could have happened to Hagrid if anyone other that Malfoy discovered that he had a dragon."

"We lost two hundred house points," Hermione said.

"Hagrid would have been in bigger trouble," Elle said. "I mean, sure, we lost two hundred house points, but at least Hagrid isn't going to get in trouble. . . . Right?"

However, Elle wasn't sure if Hermione really saw it the same way she did — after all, Hermione was never one to get herself into trouble. So, the two of them fell into silence and returned to their dormitory, each of them getting into their beds without so much as a word to one another.

Elle didn't sleep all night. She sat in her bed, Dubbie resting beside her, both of them listening to Hermione crying quietly into her pillow for what seemed like hours. Elle couldn't think of anything to say to comfort her. Elle knew Hermione, like herself, was dreading the dawn. What would happen when the rest of Gryffindor found out what they'd done?

At first, Gryffindors passing the giant hourglasses that recorded the House points the next day thought there'd been a mistake. How could they suddenly have two hundred points fewer than yesterday? And then the story started to spread: Harry Potter and Elle Riddle, the famous Harry Potter and Elle Riddle, their heroes of two Quidditch matches, had lost them all those points, them and a couple of other stupid first years.

From being some of the most popular and admired people at the school, Harry and Elle were suddenly the most hated. Even Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs turned on them, because everyone had been longing to see Slytherin lose the House Cup. Everywhere Harry and Elle went, people pointed and didn't trouble to lower their voices as they insulted them. Slytherins, on the other hand, clapped as they walked past them, whistling and cheering, "Thanks Potter, we owe you one! You too, Riddle!"

Only Ron stood by them.

"They'll all forget this in a few weeks. Fred and George have lost loads of points in all the time they've been here, and people still like them."

"They've never lost two hundred points in one go, though, have they?" said Harry miserably.

"Well — no," Ron admitted.

"Exactly," Elle said. "Something tells me this won't be something that's easily forgotten."

It was a bit late to repair the damage, but Elle swore to herself not to meddle in things that weren't her business from now on. She'd had it with sneaking around and spying.

However, many things had lost their charm; even Quidditch had lost its fun. The rest of the team wouldn't speak to Harry or Elle during practice, and if they had to speak about either of them, they called Harry "the Seeker" and Elle "the other Chaser."

Hermione and Neville were suffering, too. They didn't have as bad a time as Harry and Elle, because they weren't as well-known, but nobody would speak to them, either. Hermione had stopped drawing attention to herself in class, keeping her head down and working in silence.

Elle was almost glad that the exams weren't far away. All the studying she had to do kept her mind off her misery. She, Harry, Ron, and Hermione kept to themselves, working late into the night, trying to remember the ingredients in complicated potions, learn charms and spells by heart, memorize the dates of magical discoveries and goblin rebellions. . . .

Then, about a week before the exams were due to start, Elle's new resolution not to interfere in anything that didn't concern him was put to an unexpected test. Walking back from the library with Harry one afternoon, she heard somebody whimpering from a classroom up ahead.

"Harry," Elle said quietly. "Do you hear that?"

Harry nodded. "I. . . . I do, but we shouldn't get involved — right?"

Harry, like Elle, was trying to stick to minding his own business. However, neither one of them could help themselves, and they pursued the sound of the whimpering. As they drew closer, she and Harry heard Quirrell's voice.

"No — no — not again, please —"

It sounded as though someone was threatening him. They moved closer.

"All right — all right —" he heard Quirrell sob.

Next second, Quirrell came hurrying out of the classroom straightening his turban. He was pale and looked as though he was about to cry. He strode out of sight; Elle didn't think Quirrell had even noticed them. They waited until Quirrell's footsteps had disappeared, then peered into the classroom. It was empty, but a door stood ajar at the other end. Harry and Elle were halfway toward it before Elle remembered what she'd promised herself about not meddling.

All the same, they'd have gambled twelve Sorcerer's Stones that Snape had just left the room, and from what Harry and Elle had just heard, Snape would be walking with a new spring in his step — Quirrell seemed to have given in at last.

The two of them went back to the library, where Hermione was testing Ron on Astronomy. Harry and Elle told them what they'd heard.

"Snape's done it, then!" said Ron. "If Quirrell's told him how to break his Anti-Dark Force spell —"

"There's still Fluffy, though," said Hermione.

"Maybe Snape's found out how to get past him without asking Hagrid," said Elle.

"Look around — we're in a library," said Ron, looking up at the thousands of books surrounding them. "I bet there's a book somewhere in here telling you how to get past a giant three-headed dog. So what do we do, Harry? Elle?"

The light of adventure was kindling again in Ron's eyes, but Hermione answered before Harry or Elle could.

"Go to Dumbledore. That's what we should have done ages ago. If we try anything ourselves we'll be thrown out for sure."

"But we've got no _proof_!" said Harry. "Quirrell's too scared to back us up. Snape's only got to say he doesn't know how the troll got in at Halloween and that he was nowhere near the third floor — who do you think they'll believe, him or us? It's not exactly a secret we hate him, Dumbledore'll think we made it up to get him sacked. Filch wouldn't help us if his life depended on it, he's too friendly with Snape, and the more students get thrown out, the better, he'll think. And don't forget, we're not supposed to know about the Stone or Fluffy. That'll take a lot of explaining."

Hermione looked convinced, but Ron didn't.

"If we just do a bit of poking around —"

"No," said Elle flatly, "we've done enough poking around."

She pulled a map of Jupiter toward her and started to learn the names of its moons.

* * *

The following morning, notes were delivered to Harry, Elle, Hermione, and Neville at the breakfast table. They were all the same:

_Your detention will take place at eleven o'clock tonight._

_Meet Mr. Filch in the entrance hall. _

_Professor M. McGonagall_

Elle had forgotten they still had detentions to do in the furor over the points they'd lost. She half expected Hermione to complain that this was a whole night of studying lost, but she didn't say a word. Like Elle, she felt they deserved what they'd got.

At eleven o'clock that night, they said good-bye to Ron in the common room and went down to the entrance hall with Neville. Filch was already there — and so was Malfoy. Elle had also forgotten that Malfoy had gotten a detention, too.

"Follow me," said Filch, lighting a lamp and leading them outside.

"I bet you'll think twice about breaking a school rule again, won't you, eh?" he said, leering at them. "Oh yes . . . hard work and pain are the best teachers if you ask me. . . . It's just a pity they let the old punishments die out . . . hang you by your wrists from the ceiling for a few days, I've got the chains still in my office, keep 'em well oiled in case they're ever needed. . . . Right, off we go, and don't think of running off, now, it'll be worse for you if you do."

They marched off across the dark grounds. Neville kept sniffing. Elle wondered what their punishment was going to be. It must be something really horrible, or Filch wouldn't be sounding so delighted.

The moon was bright, but clouds scudding across it kept throwing them into darkness. Ahead, Elle could see the lighted windows of Hagrid's hut. Then they heard a distant shout.

"Is that you, Filch? Hurry up, I want ter get started."

Elle's heart rose; if they were going to be working with Hagrid it wouldn't be so bad. Her relief must have showed in his face, because Filch said, "I suppose you think you'll be enjoying yourself with that oaf? Well, think again, girl — it's into the forest you're going and I'm much mistaken if you'll all come out in one piece."

At this, Neville let out a little moan, and Malfoy stopped dead in his tracks.

"The forest?" he repeated, and he didn't sound quite as cool as usual. "We can't go in there at night — there's all sorts of things in there — werewolves, I heard."

Neville clutched the sleeve of Harry's robe and made a choking noise.

"That's your problem, isn't it?" said Filch, his voice cracking with glee. "Should've thought of them werewolves before you got in trouble, shouldn't you?"

Hagrid came striding toward them out of the dark, Fang at his heel. He was carrying his large crossbow, and a quiver of arrows hung over his shoulder.

"Abou' time," he said. "I bin waitin' fer half an hour already. All right, Harry, Elle? Hermione?"

"I shouldn't be too friendly to them, Hagrid," said Filch coldly, "they're here to be punished, after all."

"That's why yer late, is it?" said Hagrid, frowning at Filch. "Bin lecturin' them, eh? 'Snot your place ter do that. Yeh've done yer bit, I'll take over from here."

"I'll be back at dawn," said Filch, "for what's left of them," he added nastily, and he turned and started back toward the castle, his lamp bobbing away in the darkness.

Malfoy now turned to Hagrid.

"I'm not going in that forest," he said, and Elle was pleased to hear the note of panic in his voice.

"Yeh are if yeh want ter stay at Hogwarts," said Hagrid fiercely. "Yeh've done wrong an' now yeh've got ter pay fer it."

"But this is servant stuff, it's not for students to do. I thought we'd be copying lines or something, if my father knew I was doing this, he'd —"

"— tell yer that's how it is at Hogwarts," Hagrid growled. "Copyin' lines! What good's that ter anyone? Yeh'll do summat useful or yeh'll get out. If yeh think yer father'd rather you were expelled, then get back off ter the castle an' pack. Go on!"

Malfoy didn't move. He looked at Hagrid furiously, but then dropped his gaze.

"Right then," said Hagrid, "now, listen carefully, 'cause it's dangerous what we're gonna do tonight, an' I don' want no one takin' risks. Follow me over here a moment."

He led them to the very edge of the forest. Holding his lamp up high, he pointed down a narrow, winding earth track that disappeared into the thick black trees. A light breeze lifted their hair as they looked into the forest.

"Look there," said Hagrid, "see that stuff shinin' on the ground? Silvery stuff? That's unicorn blood. There's a unicorn in there bin hurt badly by summat. This is the second time in a week. I found one dead last Wednesday. We're gonna try an' find the poor thing. We might have ter put it out of its misery."

Elle stood there quietly, eyeing the silver blood, an odd feeling of familiarity settling over her as she recalled the dream she had had over the Christmas holiday — she was in a forest, much like this one, and she had stumbled across a unicorn, its silver blood shed all over the ground. . . .

"And what if whatever hurt the unicorn finds us first?" said Malfoy, pulling Elle out of her thoughts.

"There's nothin' that lives in the forest that'll hurt yeh if yer with me or Fang," said Hagrid. "An' keep ter the path. Right, now, we're gonna split inter two parties an' follow the trail in diff'rent directions. There's blood all over the place, it must've bin staggerin' around since last night at least."

"I want Fang," said Malfoy quickly, looking at Fang's long teeth.

"All right, but I warn yeh, he's a coward," said Hagrid. "So me, Harry, an' Elle'll go one way an' Draco, Hermione, Neville, an' Fang'll go the other. Now, if any of us finds the unicorn, we'll send up green sparks, right? Get yer wands out an' practice now — that's it — an' if anyone gets in trouble, send up red sparks, an' we'll all come an' find yeh — so, be careful — let's go."

The forest was black and silent. A little way into it they reached a fork in the earth path, and Harry, Elle, and Hagrid took the left path while Malfoy, Hermione, Neville, and Fang took the right.

They walked in silence, their eyes on the ground. Every now and then a ray of moonlight through the branches above lit a spot of silver-blue blood on the fallen leaves.

Elle saw that Hagrid looked very worried.

"_Could_ a werewolf be killing the unicorns?" Elle asked.

"Not fast enough," said Hagrid. "It's not easy ter catch a unicorn, they're powerful magic creatures. I never knew one ter be hurt before."

They walked past a mossy tree stump. Elle could hear running water; there must be a stream somewhere close by. There were still spots of unicorn blood here and there along the winding path.

"You all right, Elle?" Hagrid whispered. "Don' worry, it can't've gone far if it's this badly hurt, an' then we'll be able ter — GET BEHIND THAT TREE!"

Hagrid seized Harry and Elle and hoisted them off the path behind a towering oak. He pulled out an arrow and fitted it into his crossbow, raising it, ready to fire. The three of them listened. Something was slithering over dead leaves nearby: it sounded like a cloak trailing along the ground. Hagrid was squinting up the dark path, but after a few seconds, the sound faded away.

"I knew it," he murmured. "There's summat in here that shouldn' be."

"A werewolf?" Harry suggested.

"That wasn' no werewolf an' it wasn' no unicorn, neither," said Hagrid grimly. "Right, follow me, but careful, now."

They walked more slowly, ears straining for the faintest sound. Suddenly, in a clearing ahead, something definitely moved.

"Who's there?" Hagrid called. "Show yerself — I'm armed!"

And into the clearing came — was it a man, or a horse? To the waist, a man, with red hair and beard, but below that was a horse's gleaming chestnut body with a long, reddish tail. Harry and Elle's jaws dropped.

"Oh, it's you, Ronan," said Hagrid in relief. "How are yeh?"

He walked forward and shook the centaur's hand.

"Good evening to you, Hagrid," said Ronan. He had a deep, sorrowful voice. "Were you going to shoot me?"

"Can't be too careful, Ronan," said Hagrid, patting his crossbow. "There's summat bad loose in this forest. This is Harry Potter an' Elle Riddle, by the way. Students up at the school. An' this is Ronan, you two. He's a centaur."

"We'd noticed," said Elle faintly.

"Good evening," said Ronan, looking over Harry and Elle. His gaze lingered on Elle for a few moments, his eyes narrowing slightly. "Students, are you? And do you learn much, up at the school?"

"Erm —"

"A bit," said Elle timidly.

"A bit. Well, that's something." Ronan said, but Elle got the odd feeling that he was being short towards her, as if he didn't particularly like he. He flung back his head and stared at the sky. "Mars is bright tonight."

"Yeah," said Hagrid, glancing up, too. "Listen, I'm glad we've run inter yeh, Ronan, 'cause there's a unicorn bin hurt — you seen anythin'?"

Ronan didn't answer immediately. He stared unblinkingly upward, then sighed again.

"Always the innocent are the first victims," he said. "So it has been for ages past, so it is now."

"Yeah," said Hagrid, "but have yeh seen anythin', Ronan? Anythin' unusual?"

"Mars is bright tonight," Ronan repeated, while Hagrid watched him impatiently. "Unusually bright."

"Yeah, but I was meanin' anythin' unusual a bit nearer home," said Hagrid. "So yeh haven't noticed anythin' strange?"

Yet again, Ronan took a while to answer. At last, he said, "The forest hides many secrets."

A movement in the trees behind Ronan made Hagrid raise his bow again, but it was only a second centaur, black-haired and -bodied and wilder-looking than Ronan.

"Hullo, Bane," said Hagrid. "All right?"

"Good evening, Hagrid, I hope you are well?"

"Well enough. Look, I've jus' bin askin' Ronan, you seen anythin' odd in here lately? There's a unicorn bin injured — would yeh know anythin' about it?"

Bane walked over to stand next to Ronan. He looked skyward.

"Mars is bright tonight," he said simply.

"We've heard," said Hagrid grumpily. "Well, if either of you do see anythin', let me know, won't yeh? We'll be off, then."

Harry and Elle followed him out of the clearing, staring over their shoulders at Ronan and Bane until the trees blocked their view.

"Never," said Hagrid irritably, "try an' get a straight answer out of a centaur. Ruddy stargazers. Not interested in anythin' closer'n the moon."

"Are there many of _them_ in here?" asked Elle.

"Oh, a fair few. . . . Keep themselves to themselves mostly, but they're good enough about turnin' up if ever I want a word. They're deep, mind, centaurs . . . they know things . . . jus' don' let on much."

"D'you think that was a centaur we heard earlier?" said Harry.

"Did that sound like hooves to you? Nah, if yeh ask me, that was what's bin killin' the unicorns — never heard anythin' like it before."

They walked on through the dense, dark trees. Elle kept looking nervously over his shoulder. She had the nasty feeling they were being watched. She was very glad they had Hagrid and his crossbow with them. They had just passed a bend in the path when something caught Elle's eye — red sparks. Quickly, Elle grabbed Hagrid's arm.

"Hagrid! Look! Red sparks, the others are in trouble!"

"You two wait here!" Hagrid shouted. "Stay on the path, I'll come back for yeh!"

They heard him crashing away through the undergrowth and stood looking at each other, very scared, until they couldn't hear anything but the rustling of leaves around them.

"You don't think they've been hurt, do you?" whispered Elle.

"I don't care if Malfoy has, but if something's got Hermione or Neville . . . it's our fault they're here in the first place."

The minutes dragged by. Their ears seemed sharper than usual. Elle's seemed to be picking up every sigh of the wind, every cracking twig. What was going on? Where were the others?

At last, a great crunching noise announced Hagrid's return. Malfoy, Hermione, Neville, and Fang were with him. Hagrid and Hermione were fuming. Malfoy, it seemed, had sneaked up behind Neville and grabbed him as a joke. Neville had panicked and sent up the sparks.

"We'll be lucky ter catch anythin' now, with the racket you two were makin'. Right, we're changin' groups — Neville and Hermione, you stay with me, Harry an' Elle, you go with Fang an' this idiot. I'm sorry," Hagrid added in a whisper to Harry and Elle, "but he'll have a harder time frightenin' you, an' we've gotta get this done."

So Harry and Elle set off into the heart of the forest with Malfoy and Fang. They walked for nearly half an hour, deeper and deeper into the forest, until the path became almost impossible to follow because the trees were so thick. Elle thought the blood seemed to be getting thicker. There were splashes on the roots of a tree, as though the poor creature had been thrashing around in pain close by. Elle could see a clearing ahead, through the tangled branches of an ancient oak.

"Look —" Harry murmured, grabbing Elle's hand, bringing her to a stop, and holding out his other arm to stop Malfoy.

Something bright white was gleaming on the ground. They inched closer.

It was the unicorn all right, and it was dead. Elle had never seen anything so beautiful and sad. Its long, slender legs were stuck out at odd angles where it had fallen and its mane was spread pearly-white on the dark leaves — it was just like her dream.

Harry and Elle had taken one step toward it when a slithering sound made them both freeze where they stood. A bush on the edge of the clearing quivered. . . . Then, out of the shadows, a hooded figure came crawling across the ground like some stalking beast. Harry, Elle, Malfoy, and Fang stood transfixed. The cloaked figure reached the unicorn, lowered its head over the wound in the animal's side, and began to drink its blood.

"AAAAAAAAAAARGH!"

Malfoy let out a terrible scream and bolted — so did Fang. The hooded figure raised its head and looked right at Harry and Elle — unicorn blood was dribbling down its front. It got to its feet and came swiftly toward them — they couldn't move for fear.

Suddenly, Harry stumbled backwards, letting go of Elle's hand, leaving her standing there, facing the figure. She couldn't move; she was petrified. This was her dream — her in the forest, standing before a cloaked figure, frozen by fear.

"Get away from me," Elle whispered, reaching for her wand. "P-please, stay b-back —"

Suddenly, she heard hooves behind her, galloping, and something jumped clean over Elle, charging at the figure.

It was a centaur, but not Ronan or Bane; this one looked younger; he had white-blond hair and a palomino body. He charged the cloaked figure, which quickly turned and fled, disappearing into the woods. Elle wanted to thank to the centaur, but here was a sudden thud beside her, and she turned to see Harry had fallen to his knees, grasping the scar on his forehead.

"Harry?" Elle whispered. "Are you okay?"

"I'm. . . . I'm fine," Harry muttered through clenched teeth. "But. . . . My scar, it . . . it hurts."

Elle heard heavy hooves behind them, and she looked up to see that the centaur who had come to their rescue was now standing behind them.

"Are you all right?" said the centaur, pulling Elle to her feet.

"Yes — thank you — what was that?" Elle said as she helped Harry to his feet.

The centaur didn't answer. He had astonishingly blue eyes, like pale sapphires. He looked carefully at Elle, and then to Harry, his eyes lingering on the scar that stood out, livid, on Harry's forehead.

"You are the Potter boy," he said before he then turned to Elle. "And you. . . . You must be Eleanor Riddle. You two had better get back to Hagrid. The forest is not safe at this time — especially for you two. Can you ride? It will be quicker this way.

"My name is Firenze," he added, as he lowered himself on to his front legs so that Harry and Elle could clamber onto his back.

There was suddenly a sound of more galloping from the other side of the clearing. Ronan and Bane came bursting through the trees, their flanks heaving and sweaty.

"Firenze!" Bane thundered. "What are you doing? You have two humans on your back! Have you no shame? Are you a common mule?"

"Do you realize who this is?" said Firenze. "This is the Potter boy and Eleanor Riddle. The quicker they leave this forest, the better."

"What have you been telling them?" growled Bane. "Remember, Firenze, we are sworn not to set ourselves against the heavens. Have we not read what is to come in the movements of the planets?"

Ronan pawed the ground nervously. "I'm sure Firenze thought he was acting for the best," he said in his gloomy voice.

Bane kicked his back legs in anger.

"For the best! What is that to do with us? Centaurs are concerned with what has been foretold! It is not our business to run around like donkeys after stray humans in our forest!"

Firenze suddenly reared on to his hind legs in anger, so that Harry had to grab his shoulders to stay on, Elle wrapping her arms around Harry to keep herself from being thrown off.

"Do you not see that unicorn?" Firenze bellowed at Bane. "Do you not understand why it was killed? Or have the planets not let you in on that secret? I set myself against what is lurking in this forest, Bane, yes, with humans alongside me if I must."

And Firenze whisked around; with Harry and Elle clutching on as best they could, they plunged off into the trees, leaving Ronan and Bane behind them.

Elle didn't have a clue what was going on.

"Why's Bane so angry?" Harry asked. "What was that thing you saved me from, anyway?"

Firenze slowed to a walk, warned Harry and Elle to keep their heads bowed in case of low-hanging branches, but did not answer Harry's question. They made their way through the trees in silence for so long that Elle thought Firenze didn't want to talk to them anymore. They were passing through a particularly dense patch of trees, however, when Firenze suddenly stopped.

"Mr. Potter, Miss Riddle, do you know what unicorn blood is used for?"

"No," said Harry, startled by the odd question.

"We've only used the horn and tail hair in Potions," said Elle.

"That is because it is a monstrous thing, to slay a unicorn," said Firenze. "Only one who has nothing to lose, and everything to gain, would commit such a crime. The blood of a unicorn will keep you alive, even if you are an inch from death, but at a terrible price. You have slain something pure and defenseless to save yourself, and you will have but a half-life, a cursed life, from the moment the blood touches your lips."

Elle stared at the back of Firenze's head, which was dappled silver in the moonlight.

"But who'd be that desperate?" Harry wondered aloud. "If you're going to be cursed forever, death's better, isn't it?"

"It is," Firenze agreed, "unless all you need is to stay alive long enough to drink something else — something that will bring you back to full strength and power — something that will mean you can never die. Do you two know what is hidden in the school at this very moment?"

"The Sorcerer's Stone," said Elle. "Of course — the Elixir of Life! But I don't understand who —"

"Can you think of nobody who has waited many years to return to power, who has clung to life, awaiting their chance?"

It was as though an iron fist had clenched suddenly around Elle's heart. Over the rustling of the trees, she seemed to hear once more what Hagrid had told her and Harry on the night they had met: "Some say he died. Codswallop, in my opinion. Dunno if he had enough human left in him to die."

"Do you mean," Harry croaked, "that was _Vol_ —"

"Harry! Elle! Oh — are you all right?"

Hermione was running toward them down the path, Hagrid puffing along behind her.

"I'm fine," said Harry. "We both are."

"The unicorn's dead, Hagrid, it's in that clearing back there," Elle said.

"This is where I leave you two," Firenze murmured as Hagrid hurried off to examine the unicorn. "You are safe now."

Harry slid off his back and took Elle's hand, helping her off Firenze.

"Good luck, Harry Potter and Elle Riddle," said Firenze. "The planets have been read wrongly before now, even by centaurs. I hope this is one of those times."

Firenze turned to leave, but before he did so, he paused, looking over towards Elle.

"Oh, and, Miss Riddle," he said. "I think it would be in your best interest that you do not wind up in this forest again; I'm afraid many of the centaur that live here are not very fond of you or your family. They may not be as courteous as me."

"My family?" Elle echoed. "What do you mean?"

Firenze frowned some and looked away from her, gazing up towards the sky.

"Mars. . . . It's unusually bright tonight," Firenze said.

"Yeah," Elle muttered, looking trouble. "So we've been told."

Then, without so much as another word, Firenze turned and cantered back into the depths of the forest, leaving Harry and Elle shivering behind him.

* * *

Ron had fallen asleep in the dark common room, waiting for them to return. He shouted something about Quidditch fouls when Harry roughly shook him awake. In a matter of seconds, though, he was wide-eyed as Harry and Elle began to tell him and Hermione what had happened in the forest.

Harry couldn't sit down. He paced up and down in front of the fire. Elle, however, was sitting in one of the large arm chairs in front of the fire, still shivering where she sat.

"Snape wants the Stone for Voldemort . . . and Voldemort's waiting in the forest . . . and all this time we thought Snape just wanted to get rich. . . ."

"Stop saying the name!" said Ron in a terrified whisper, as if he thought Voldemort could hear them.

Harry wasn't listening.

"Firenze saved Elle and me, but he shouldn't have done so. . . . Bane was furious . . . he was talking about interfering with what the planets say is going to happen. . . ."

"They must show that Voldemort's coming back. . . . Bane thinks Firenze should have let Voldemort kill Harry. . . . I suppose that's written in the stars as well," said Elle.

_"Will you stop saying the name!"_ Ron hissed.

"So all I've got to wait for now is Snape to steal the Stone," Harry went on feverishly, "then Voldemort will be able to come and finish me off. . . . Well, I suppose Bane'll be happy."

Hermione looked very frightened, but she had a word of comfort.

"Harry, everyone says Dumbledore's the only one You-Know-Who was ever afraid of. With Dumbledore around, You-Know-Who won't touch you. Anyway, who says the centaurs are right? It sounds like fortune-telling to me, and Professor McGonagall says that's a very imprecise branch of magic."

The sky had turned light before they stopped talking. They went to bed exhausted, their throats sore. Elle, however, couldn't sleep, the night's events playing over and over again in her head, as if on repeat. Was that really Voldemort they encountered in the woods? And what did Firenze mean when he said the centaur weren't fond of her family?

What could they have possibly done?


End file.
